


Where You Belong

by Amethystina



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: And brings a shitload of baggage, Canon-Typical Violence, Cougar joins the team last, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jensen decides to help him through it, M/M, Minor Injuries, PTSD, Trading Losers, Trading Losers 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: Jensen is excited when he learns that they're getting a team member, even just on a trial basis. Except, when he actuallymeetsthis Sergeant Alvarez, it quickly becomes apparent that the man is, for lack of a better word, not quitethere. He's wary and aloof, distancing himself from the rest of the team, and clearly carries some kind of baggage. Jensen knows he shouldn't meddle, but he can't help but feel that Alvarez shouldn't have to go through this alone. The man needs a friend.And, come hell or high water, Jensen decides he's going to be that friend.





	1. The New Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donutsweeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/gifts).



> This is my part of the trade with [donutsweeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper), who was awesome enough to participate in [Trading Losers](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/169044434668/hey-losers-its-time)! The prompt was "Jensen and Cougar hurt/comfort and (or) why Jensen thinks cats are not to be trusted." Admittedly, I didn't manage to write anything about cats — I just went for the hurt/comfort. There is, on the other hand, _a lot_ of hurt/comfort and _a lot_ of fic, so hopefully I'm excused.
> 
> A huge thank you to [orbingarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow) for help and encouragement on the first three chapters and to [Flight_Of_Icarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flight_Of_Icarus/pseuds/Flight_Of_Icarus) for reading through the whole thing and helping me when I got stuck on the fourth. I am so very grateful <3
> 
> As always, the art is made by me. Now enjoy the fic, my lovelies!

 

* * *

 

Jensen knew from experience that being transferred to a new team could be jarring at best and traumatic at worst. He'd been bounced around enough times to be intimately familiar with the complex emotions one went through during such transfers, and was therefore quite alarmed when he saw none of them on their new team member's face.

"Losers, this is Sergeant Alvarez." Clay gestured towards the quiet, blank-faced man standing next to him. "He'll be with us during the next couple of missions, on a trial basis."

Alvarez didn't move a muscle. Come to think of it, Jensen wasn't sure if the man had even _blinked_ since he stepped inside the room. It was quite unnerving. Not that Jensen had ever let that stop him — he was always eager to make new friends, be they a little strange at first glance.

"Hi! Welcome to the team." Jensen grinned brightly as he walked over, holding out his hand for a shake. "I'm Jake Jensen, but most people call me Jensen. Well, except my sister, who sometimes calls me JJ. Or Jacob James Jensen, when she's really, really mad at me and—"

"Jensen," Clay admonished.

"—what I meant is nice to meet you," Jensen finished smoothly, grin still in place.

Alvarez looked at Jensen with that same blank expression and, for a moment, Jensen had to wonder if the other had even heard him. Then, after another awkward beat, Alvarez looked down at Jensen's outstretched hand and slowly took it. The shake was stiff and guarded, to the point where Jensen wondered if he had accidentally insulted the man.

"Alvarez," was the only reply Jensen got, which was a bit of a disappointment, he had to admit. Alvarez seemed in a hurry to let go of Jensen's hand, his dark gaze flicking to look over Jensen's shoulder.

"Don't worry — you'll get used to Jensen and his antics," Pooch said as he stepped up to offer his own greeting. "I'm Pooch."

This time, Alvarez accepted the handshake without hesitation, but he only gave a nod rather than a verbal reply. He didn't _look_ uncomfortable — he didn't look anything at all, really — but, despite his lack of facial expressions, there was something in Alvarez's body language that was sending out a clear warning for people to stay away. He didn't necessarily seem _hostile_ , but definitely wary.

As far as first impressions went, Alvarez wasn't doing a particularly good job.

Not that Jensen was judging him — he'd been in Alvarez's shoes enough times to have sympathy for the man — but he wasn't quite sure what to make of their new teammate. Usually, Jensen could get a pretty good grasp on someone's personality even just after a couple of minutes of conversation, but this was like running straight into a brick wall. When Alvarez wasn't hiding his eyes behind the brim of his admittedly quite awesome hat, his gaze was completely void of emotions. He looked _detached_ , as if he wasn't quite present, which didn't seem like a particularly good trait in a new team member.

Jensen glanced over just in time to see the flat look Roque gave Clay — the one that was part reprimand and part exasperation — and found a big piece of the puzzle right there.

Sergeant Alvarez was one of Clay's troubled strays.

Jensen had been one too. Before he joined the Losers, he'd been bounced between teams who appreciated his tech skills but couldn't stand his personality. The constant back and forth — and lack of stability and security — had made Jensen twitchy and high-strung, to the point where he had actually started considering giving up his whole military career.

But then Clay had requested him for a mission and, for one reason or another, Jensen had been allowed to stay. Clay was the first CO who had put some actual effort into making Jensen feel welcome, even if it had been in Clay's characteristically gruff way. Jensen was still surprised that Clay had kept him on the team, but he was thankful every single morning that he woke up to the knowledge that he'd finally found a place where he belonged.

Clay apparently had hopes that Alvarez would do the same, but only time would tell if whatever baggage Alvarez carried would _allow_ him to find that kind of peace.

Jensen saw the subtle tension in Alvarez's shoulders and the way he was already shifting away from Pooch — out of arm's reach — and hoped that Clay knew what he was doing. Jensen was all for helping those in need, but the question was if Alvarez _wanted_ help.

That, too, was something only time would tell, Jensen supposed.

Jensen would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned about their first mission with Alvarez on the team. Apparently, Alvarez specialized in long-distance eliminations and Jensen couldn't quite figure out who thought that was a good idea. The man seemed both passive and inattentive — none of which were good traits in a sniper. Clay didn't seem the least bit concerned, however, even if Alvarez spent the entire briefing staring blankly at a spot on Clay's left shoulder, not saying a word.

To Jensen's relief, Alvarez snapped to attention as soon as the actual mission started.

In fact, Jensen wasn't sure if he had ever seen such an intently focused person in his entire life. Alvarez was still quiet and withdrawn, speaking only when absolutely necessary, but his aim was _lethal_ , to the point where Jensen felt just a little bit terrified. This side of Alvarez was so different from the usual vacant stares that Jensen had a hard time believing it was even the same person.

Jensen knew it was stupid to get distracted during a mission — especially by a teammate — and, as expected, he almost ended up getting shot because of it. The only reason he _didn't_ was, ironically, Alvarez.

It all happened so fast.

Jensen turned a corner, looking for the server room of the facility they were infiltrating, and suddenly came face to face with the barrel of an AK. Time seemed to slow, Jensen's heart leaping into his throat when he realized that he wouldn't have time to raise his gun in time. He was going to get his head blown off and desperately hoped that Jess and Beth had enough pictures to remember his face by because there probably wouldn't be much left of it once the guard in front of him pulled the trigger.

"Drop!"

The word was sharp with urgency, barked over the comms with enough force to snap time back into its usual rhythm.

Jensen obeyed without a second thought and dropped to the ground.

He didn't actually hear the shot, but he _did_ hear the whistle of the bullet and the _thud_ of a body hitting the ground a couple of feet away. Jensen's heart was racing, a cold chill spreading down his spine. That had been far too close.

He could have died.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, trying to catch his breath despite the panic clawing inside his throat.

"Everyone okay?" Clay asked, voice tight.

"Yeah. Yes." Jensen exhaled and pushed himself up from the ground, his limbs trembling from the adrenaline. "Just a close call. My bad."

He wobbled as he got to his feet, but he assumed Alvarez was the only one close enough to actually see it. Jensen could live with that; without Alvarez, he wouldn't be alive at all.

Jensen took a deep breath, willing his heart to stop beating so fucking fast. "Heading for the server room now."

"Copy that," Clay replied. "We'll give you a distraction."

"Much appreciated, Colonel." Usually, Jensen might have tried to say something witty, but he was a little too shaken to think of anything appropriate.

Jensen stepped over the dead guard, impressed to find that the bullet had hit right between his eyes. Alvarez was _good_.

"Alvarez, my man, drinks are on me when we get back," Jensen said as he continued on his way to the server room. "I owe you one — a big one."

In the distance, Jensen could hear gunfire and a minor explosion, thankful that the rest of the team was drawing the remaining guards away from his location. Alvarez, however, was suspiciously quiet. Jensen felt a stab of worry.

"Alvarez? You okay?"

The silence remained for another couple of seconds and, when Alvarez eventually replied, his voice was a little choked.

"I'm fine."

He didn't sound fine. Jensen frowned but knew now wasn't the time to pursue that particular line of inquiry.

"Well, thank you," he said instead. "For saving my ass."

The reply came quicker this time, but the words were still a little husky. " _De nada_."

Jensen wasn't quite prepared for the Spanish and just how much better suited Alvarez's voice was for it.

He felt a highly inappropriate twist deep in his gut that was both wonderful and extremely troubling. Feeling attracted to his teammates wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't exactly recommended, either. Besides, Alvarez wasn't Jensen's type. He appreciated competence, sure — and Alvarez was as competent as a person could get — but he was also cold and unfeeling, which was _not_ something Jensen enjoyed.

It was stupid to even entertain the idea, especially while in the middle of a mission. So Jensen quickly shoved the thought aside and returned his focus to the task at hand.

That squeeze of want was probably just a one-time thing.

Alvarez was alarmingly pale when they made camp that night and kept staring blankly at nothing in particular with dark, empty eyes. It was unsettling enough that Jensen decided to ignore whatever personal space issues Alvarez might have and place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Jensen asked, careful to keep his voice low enough that the others wouldn't hear.

Alvarez looked up from his ration, staring at Jensen's face as if he'd never seen him before. Several seconds passed before Alvarez seemed to realize that he was supposed to say something.

" _Sí_ ," he replied, voice flat.

Jensen didn't believe him for a second. Something was terribly wrong and Jensen's chest was tight with concern, but he didn't want to push — this still wasn't a good time to be having this conversation. He would have to try later, perhaps during that promised drink of theirs.

For now, Jensen settled for a brief, comforting squeeze of Alvarez's shoulder before returning to his own food, but he made sure to keep Alvarez in his peripheral during the rest of the evening, just in case.

Alvarez might be many things, but okay was not one of them.

Once they got back home, it turned out that buying Alvarez a drink was a lot more difficult than Jensen had anticipated.

Since he was only with the team on a trial basis, Alvarez stayed in his assigned room rather than moved into the team's house on base. That meant that Jensen didn't have a whole lot of access and, whenever he _did_ manage to track down the elusive sniper, Alvarez politely declined the offers to go out and get a drink. Jensen couldn't say if it was the alcohol or the company that made Alvarez so reluctant, but he was far too stubborn to give up just yet.

Besides, Alvarez was pretty lonely from what he could tell. Every single time Jensen went to find him, Alvarez was on his own. It didn't matter if he was at the gym, the shooting range, or the chow hall — he was _always_ alone.

The man clearly needed a friend and, the more Jensen saw, the more determined he was to become that friend. No one should have to go through whatever Alvarez was going through without someone there for support. Jensen still didn't know what had made Alvarez so jaded in the first place, but there was no denying the obvious scars it had left and that Alvarez wasn't dealing particularly well with the trauma.

Maybe Jensen could help with that.

He could accept that drinking wasn't the way to go if he wanted to gain Alvarez's favor, but there had to be something else he could do — some other way to get the man to talk to him.

Jensen was both resourceful and inventive — he'd think of something.

Three days later, he knocked on Alvarez's door, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. When Alvarez opened — which took several seconds longer than Jensen's patience could handle — he didn't seem surprised to see who was on the other side. Jensen attributed that to the fact that he had been more or less stalking Alvarez for the past two weeks, showing up at random with offers to hang out.

The man had to be used to seeing his face by now.

While the changes in Alvarez's expressions were still as subtle as ever, Jensen _was_ getting better at reading them. He was also beginning to realize that there was an entire language hiding in the way Alvarez tilted his head and shifted his body, each gesture saying something different. It seemed to be his preferred way of speaking, in fact, and Jensen wondered if anyone had ever bothered to learn it — catalog all the little nuances to better understand this silent, complicated man. Doing something like that would no doubt take time, but Jensen didn't exactly have anything better to do.

"Hi! I need help from someone with your super sneaky sniper skills." Jensen knew he might sound just a little _too_ excited, but he couldn't help it. He'd finally found something that they could do together — a soft start for what he knew had the potential to become a beautiful friendship.

Alvarez raised an eyebrow, which Jensen took to as a request to elaborate.

"New equipment! I might have done some nagging to get us on the list of teams to test them—" or falsified the list, more correctly, "—but the important thing is that we have new toys to play with! You want to come with me to the shooting range and test them out?"

There was a brief silence before Alvarez gave a slow, almost hesitant, nod. His face didn't change, but at least he agreed to come along. Jensen decided to take that as a win.

The obvious flaw in Jensen's plan was that he ended up spending the next three hours in distractingly close proximity to a person he was reluctantly attracted to. He still couldn't understand _why_ he felt so drawn to the man. Aside from Alvarez's noticeably good looks and razor-sharp focus — which was equal parts terrifying and hot — Alvarez didn't have a whole lot to offer that Jensen was actually interested in.

So, once again, he chose to ignore the whole thing. It was just best not to go there.

Instead, Jensen spent the majority of those three hours talking, both about the equipment and everything else that came to mind. He was pretty certain that Alvarez didn't care about what reading level Jensen's niece was at or what his favorite candies were, but at least it helped pass the time — and distracted Jensen from the fact that he now knew what Alvarez's hair smelled like. That was wholly unintentional on Jensen's part, but it had been impossible _not_ to notice when he had leaned in to help Alvarez adjust the scope on the rifle he was testing.

Jensen would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life and he was pretty sure it would drive him insane somewhere down the road.

No one should be allowed to smell that good.

Thankfully, at the end of their little session, Alvarez looked more relaxed than Jensen had ever seen him, so the afternoon was definitely not wasted. Alvarez still wasn't smiling or anything, but his gaze was significantly softer and he didn't shy away when Jensen gave his shoulder a quick pat as they parted ways. It might not be a big improvement, but it was an improvement nonetheless.

Baby steps, Jensen told himself. Baby steps.

Two days later, Jensen asked if Alvarez wanted to join the team for dinner at their house and was pleasantly surprised when Alvarez said yes.

Jensen kept grinning triumphantly for _hours_.

The more time Jensen spent in Alvarez's company, the more intrigued he became.

Jensen was a curious person by nature and, to Clay's great dismay, an expert at finding the information he was interested in, no matter how many firewalls it was hidden behind. Despite the fact that most of the files involving the team were classified, Jensen had his ways to get access. He did, however, draw the line at investigating Alvarez's past, no matter how much his fingers itched. He was _dying_ to know where Alvarez had been before being transferred to their team — what he had experienced that made him this distant and guarded — but Jensen knew he couldn't. That would be a breach of trust that Alvarez wasn't likely to forgive.

It turned out, however, that Jensen didn't need computers if he wanted to know more about Alvarez — the man was a lot more famous than Jensen had expected. In his defense, Jensen wasn't all that caught up on the gossip on base and Alvarez had only ever introduced himself as Alvarez, not what most people actually knew him as.

How was Jensen supposed to know that Alvarez was not just any sniper, but _the_ sniper? The one that everyone was scared shitless of and knew not to mess with.

Jensen hadn't exactly seen any of that in the weeks he had known Alvarez. To him, Alvarez had always come across as quiet, withdrawn, and perhaps a little sad, but never outright frightening. He was definitely skilled at what he did — Jensen had seen that firsthand — but he had never given Jensen a reason to fear for his well-being. Heck, the man had even saved his life on the very first mission they had run together.

But there was no denying the effect Alvarez had on people. He was given a wide berth, other soldiers keeping a respectful distance, and nothing seemed to shut people up faster than that blank, flat stare of his. From what Jensen could tell, it wasn't intentional on Alvarez's part, except, perhaps, that time when some other soldiers tried to get a rise out of Jensen when he and Alvarez were at the shooting range.

As depressing as it was to admit, Jensen was used to bullying — being a talkative, hyperactive kid with above-average intelligence apparently made you an easy target in high school — and usually chose to just shrug it off.

Alvarez was less forgiving.

He didn't say anything but the way he calmly put down his rifle and moved to stand next to Jensen — just _staring_ at the taunting soldiers — drew a pretty clear line in the sand. Jensen wasn't sure what to feel about Alvarez deciding that he needed protecting, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit grateful. The teasing was tiring and Alvarez shut it down without causing a scene.

Also, Jensen couldn't help wondering if this meant that Alvarez was beginning to like him.

He had to, right? He had just gone out of his way to ensure that Jensen wasn't being bullied. You didn't do that for someone you disliked or merely tolerated.

Either way, it added another layer of mystery to an already complex person. Jensen had a hard time accepting that the quiet and subdued Alvarez was also the most famous, ruthless sniper on base. Alvarez was definitely good at shooting, sure, but he seemed much too gentle to have earned the reputation he had amongst the other soldiers.

Not that it mattered in the long run. Whether he went by Alvarez or Cougar, that man was getting himself a new friend — Jensen would make sure of that.

Their next mission turned to shit almost the moment they set foot on Brazilian soil.

Their assigned Jeep broke down — which meant they had to hike for three days through the jungle in the pouring rain — and Jensen was, despite his best efforts, not able to keep all of his equipment dry. The comm units still worked and Jensen didn't lose anything that would risk the success of the mission, which Clay would argue was the most important part, but Jensen still mourned the laptop. It wasn't _his_ , per se — technically, the military owned it — but he _had_ put a lot of effort into tailoring it to his needs. He would have to start all over again with a new one when they got back to base, which was just _annoying_.

Due to this, Jensen was understandably sullen when they stopped to set up camp that night, his teeth gritted to keep himself from muttering under his breath. Clay had already snapped at him to be quiet and Jensen knew better than to test his CO's patience under the current circumstances. All of them were wet and cranky and whining wouldn't improve anyone's mood.

So instead Jensen took out his frustration on his sleeping bag, pulling it out of his pack with a little more force than strictly necessary. To his surprise, something else came along with it — something that definitely didn't belong.

Jensen blinked in confusion as he stared down at the wrapped lollipop at his feet, slowly bending down to pick it up. He had absolutely no memory of packing any candy and he knew it couldn't be from their previous mission. So where on earth did it come from? He would remember bringing his favorite—

His gaze snapped to Alvarez, who was busy with his own sleeping bag, working in quiet, efficient silence, like always. Alvarez didn't acknowledge Jensen's staring even if he had to be aware of it — there were few things Alvarez _wasn't_ aware of, Jensen had learned. That, more than anything, was proof that Alvarez was the one responsible.

Jensen tried to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat, fondness and gratefulness growing inside his chest. Alvarez clearly wasn't as uncaring as he seemed at first glance — or his reputation claimed — and deserved a lot more credit than Jensen had given him so far.

So, while Jensen knew better than to say anything out loud, he couldn't help brushing his hand against Alvarez's shoulder when he passed. Alvarez looked up at the touch, crouched on the ground next to his sleeping bag, and — when seeing the look on Jensen's face — gave a small, careful smile in return.

The sight of that smile made Jensen's heart skip a beat and he allowed his fingers to linger just a second longer on Alvarez's shoulder before he forced himself to keep moving.

Neither of them ever mentioned the lollipop — not even when they got back to base — but Jensen was fine with that. He wasn't likely to forget it anytime soon. Just the fact that Alvarez had _listened_ during Jensen's long tirade was a miracle in itself, but for him to smuggle a piece of Jensen's favorite candy to a mission because Jensen might need cheering up?

That, right there, was something else.

 _Alvarez_ was something else and Jensen was beginning to see that he would do well to hang on to this man, by whatever means necessary.

Sometimes, without warning, Alvarez went more quiet and distant than usual. Jensen couldn't find a pattern to _when_ a bad day would occur, but he quickly learned to spot the tells in Alvarez's body language. He would keep his gaze averted or hidden by the brim of his hat and only respond with nods or shakes of his head. No matter how good Jensen had gotten at luring Alvarez out of his shell, it never worked on those days. Jensen wasn't sure if that was a failure on his part or if had to do with whatever baggage Alvarez was carrying, but he guessed the latter.

To Jensen, it looked a whole lot like grief.

He wasn't sure who Alvarez was grieving, though he had some ideas. Either way, Jensen made sure to be as respectful as possible, offering support just in case, but backing down when his attention was unwanted. It pained him to see Alvarez suffer, but everyone had the right to grieve in peace.

Someday, with some more work, Alvarez might be willing to talk to Jensen about his loss, but they clearly hadn't reached that point in their relationship yet.

Somewhere around week seven of knowing Alvarez, Jensen began to realize just how fiercely protective the man was — with emphasis on fierce. Jensen had seen hints of it before, sure, but he had never quite understood the full depth of Alvarez's protective streak, or just how far he'd go to keep those he cared about from harm.

So, while Jensen _had_ noticed that the bullying stopped more or less overnight, it took him an additional two weeks to catch the frightened glances his usual tormentors threw in Alvarez's direction. No one said a word but there was no mistaking the fear in their eyes and the way they were giving both Alvarez and Jensen a wide berth.

Jensen had no idea what Alvarez had done to elicit that reaction and he doubted that he would ever find out. He did ask, fuelled by curiosity and a fair share of awe, but the only reply he got was a blank stare and a shrug.

Jensen wasn't fooled — Alvarez had done _something_ — but he chose not to pursue the matter. Who was he to question Alvarez's decision to play guardian angel? As a matter of fact, if he was ever asked, Jensen would have to admit that he quite liked the thought of having someone like Alvarez watching his back, both during and between missions.

Alvarez made Jensen feel safer than he had in a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to donutsweeper's fic _[The Depths of Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375554)_ and, of course, [my Tumblr.](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you on Tuesday!


	2. The Buildup

 

* * *

 

Their third mission went by as well as anyone could hope, meaning that they completed it without major injuries or too much unintentional destruction. Jensen was quite hyped about it, at least until night came and it turned out to be one of the bad ones.

Jensen wasn't fond of nightmares, even less so when he startled awake from one, breath caught in his throat and heart hammering. It always took several seconds for the panic to settle, not at all helped by the foreign environment.

It was dark — their pickup wouldn't arrive until dawn — and he could hear nothing but the nocturnal sounds of the local wildlife. Jensen wasn't sure what time it was or who was on guard duty, but he knew he wouldn't be able to check, his limbs still locked in fear. Nightmares were bad enough when he was at home in his own bed but, on missions, they were downright torture.

Jensen squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm down, but it took a lot more effort than he could spare. He _hated_ nightmares. They always left him feeling raw and vulnerable, even if he knew they were to be expected in his chosen profession.

But that didn't mean that he had to like them.

A touch against his hand, so soft Jensen almost thought he imagined it at first, made him open his eyes again. He couldn't see much in the dark — especially without his glasses — and his brain was lagging so much it took him a couple of moments to realize who was touching him.

It had become a habit for Jensen to claim the spot next to Alvarez when they made camp, partly because he liked to keep an eye on him, but also because Alvarez was just as unobtrusive in sleep as he was when awake — as opposed to Roque who was known for his loud snoring. Considering the lack of complaints, Alvarez must have found the sleeping arrangements acceptable.

Jensen wasn't sure why Alvarez was awake — if he simply couldn't sleep or if Jensen had woken him up with his nightmare — but he definitely hadn't expected for Alvarez to reach out and gently rub his thumb along the back of Jensen's hand. The gesture was perhaps a little too intimate for two men only meant to be teammates, but Jensen was too grateful to care.

He swallowed and turned his hand, just enough that Alvarez could wrap his fingers around Jensen's colder ones. Jensen usually ran pretty warm, but the nightmare had left his hands stiff and unwieldy, almost cramping from how tightly he'd clenched them. The warmth of Alvarez's skin was soothing, sending a shiver down Jensen's spine.

Neither of them said anything and Jensen realized that his heart was still racing — but for a completely different reason this time. He barely even dared to breathe, afraid to shatter the moment or — even worse — wake up only to find that this, too, was nothing but a dream. Jensen's chest _ached_ with emotions he knew better than to name, grateful that the darkness offered him some amount of discretion.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to see what look might be on Alvarez's face at that moment.

Alvarez gave Jensen's fingers a reassuring squeeze, causing Jensen's breath to stutter. The warmth spreading through him wasn't just from the much-needed comfort, but the fact that this was _Alvarez_. No matter how much Jensen was trying to deny it, he was getting in over his head. The wise thing would be to put some distance between them — to take a step back and make sure that he didn't fall too far — but Jensen didn't want to. The warm burn in his gut was just as addicting as Alvarez's touch, both of them sending Jensen's pulse racing and his heart skittering.

So, instead of letting go, he tugged Alvarez's hand closer, tucking it against his chest. Jensen wasn't sure why Alvarez had decided to offer him comfort, but he was going to cling to it for as long as he was allowed.

The only reply Alvarez gave was another gentle squeeze of Jensen's fingers.

Much like the lollipop, they never spoke about the handholding, not even when they returned back to the States. It was clear, at least to Jensen, that something had changed between them, however.

After that mission, they started spending even more time together.

Alvarez still didn't seek Jensen out, but he never said no to offers to socialize. Perhaps because Jensen had learned by then what activities worked and which didn't, but he knew it was more than that. Alvarez's whole demeanor changed.

He was still careful, almost hesitant — not unlike a cat being teased out of hiding — but he looked more alert and expressive. Instead of keeping his gaze averted and face blank, he started making eye contact and nodded along when Jensen talked.

Little by little, Alvarez began to loosen up.

He was still stoic and disturbingly difficult to read at times, but he didn't seem cold anymore. In fact, the more Jensen looked, the more he saw of the softness underneath. Jensen wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information — neither was his heart or his libido — and decided to simply ignore it, like so many other things. Jensen had been able to gather up quite a list by then, like how unfairly good Alvarez smelled, or the warm, golden hue of his eyes when they were lit by sunlight, or just how soft his hair was.

Again, that last revelation hadn't been intentional on Jensen's part.

They'd been at the shooting range and Alvarez's hair — being way longer than regulation allowed — had slipped into his eyes. Without thinking, Jensen had reached out and brushed the errant locks aside, seeing as Alvarez's hands had been preoccupied with his rifle. It was only when Alvarez had stiffened in surprise that Jensen had realized what he'd done.

Despite whatever had happened during that dark night on their third mission, Alvarez clearly wasn't accustomed to physical contact — least of all the casual kind that Jensen offered on a daily basis. Or perhaps he just didn't like touching when he wasn't the one who initiated it.

Either way, Jensen had been inches from apologizing and the only thing that stopped him was Alvarez's low, " _Gracias_."

Jensen had no idea if this meant that he was invited to touch Alvarez more often, but he could settle for not having unintentionally ruined their friendship. Alvarez was turning out to be a lot more tolerant and patient than Jensen had first thought, but it was probably best not to push things too much — not when Jensen also ran the risk of revealing just how attracted he was to his super sneaky sniper friend.

A platonic relationship was more than enough.

The first time Jensen saw Alvarez smile — _genuinely_ smile, without hesitation or underlying sadness — was when Jensen handed over a drawing Beth had made especially for him.

While Jensen knew better than to share too many details about his work with either Jess or Beth, he _did_ talk about his team quite a lot and, nowadays, that included Alvarez. Beth, naturally, wanted to show her appreciation for this man who was helping keep her uncle safe and included a hand-drawn picture in her next letter.

Jensen wasn't sure what kind of a reaction he had expected from Alvarez, but it wasn't the soft, achingly gentle smile he got. Alvarez looked at the picture as if it was a priceless piece of art and, Jensen had to admit, he fell a little bit more in love with the man in that moment.

"She wants to know if you liked it," Jensen said. His heartbeats were obnoxiously loud, echoing in his ears, but he tried to ignore that.

Alvarez looked up, still smiling and eyes warm, which made the whole thing even worse. "I love it."

Jensen cleared his throat, trying to act natural and probably failing miserably. "Great! I'll tell her that."

"Thank you."

"I'll tell her that too." Jensen smiled, hoping he didn't look as deranged as he felt. He was pretty good at hiding his attraction on an everyday basis, but he hadn't been prepared for what it would look like when Alvarez smiled.

Nothing could prepare Jensen for that.

Alvarez shook his head. "No. Thank _you_."

Jensen frowned. "What for? I didn't draw it."

The smile on Alvarez's lips softened even further, which wasn't exactly a reply, but it was the only one Jensen got. As hard as Jensen was trying to understand the man, Alvarez was still an enigma to him on most days.

"Well, uh, you're welcome?" Jensen offered lamely.

Alvarez looked pleased and Jensen tried to tell his heartbeat to slow down, but to no avail.

He had it _bad_.

"What happened to your last team?"

Jensen knew it was a gamble to ask — especially since he had already guessed and didn't particularly _need_ the information — but he wanted to see if Alvarez would tell him. They had been growing steadily closer over the past couple of weeks, Alvarez lowering some of those thick, towering shields of his, but this was a subject they had yet to broach. It was a sensitive one, Jensen had already understood that much, but that also meant that it was probably the one they _should_ be discussing.

Jensen was all for respecting Alvarez's privacy and right to grieve in peace, but, at some point, he had to start pushing for answers. Not to mention that it probably was a while since anyone had done that to Alvarez. Most people feared him or simply let him be, assuming that he would sort himself out, but Jensen knew better. Sometimes, even if the questions were difficult, asking at least showed that someone cared.

It seemed like Alvarez might have forgotten what it was like to have people care about him.

Unsurprisingly, Alvarez stiffened at Jensen's question, his hackles rising so quickly that Jensen felt kind of bad for him. The two of them were sitting on the porch steps leading up to the team's house and Alvarez had, much to Jensen's surprise, accepted the beer he had been offered. Jensen watched as Alvarez's grip tightened around the bottle, his jaw clenched in what could be anger or grief — it was difficult to tell.

"None of your business." The words were curt, forced out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, probably not," Jensen agreed, shrugging casually where he sat next to Alvarez, beer held lazily in his hand. "But I'm willing to listen if you want to tell me."

The tension was so thick it made Jensen's skin prickle and he had to admit that he had no idea how this conversation would end. The likeliest scenario was that Alvarez would simply leave and not speak to Jensen for several days. But, ever the optimist, Jensen couldn't help but hope that Alvarez would at least _try_ to open up a little more, no matter how much it hurt. Carrying so much pain inside simply wasn't good for you.

Seconds passed in silence, slowly ticking into minutes, and Jensen tried not to fidget. He wasn't particularly fond of conflicts and this might definitely devolve into one. Alvarez was tense and guarded, his face angled away, and Jensen only barely managed to refrain from reaching out to touch him, afraid it might shatter the man completely.

Then, between one beat and the next, Alvarez spoke.

"They died."

The words were stated so bluntly that Jensen couldn't help that he held his breath for a second, even if he had already guessed as much. He kept his gaze aimed straight ahead, knowing that Alvarez probably didn't want to make eye contact at the moment.

"I'm sorry," Jensen said. He could have said more, but he had a feeling Alvarez didn't want cliché platitudes.

Alvarez made a vague noise that Jensen chose to take as gratitude, but said nothing else. That was fine — getting Alvarez to open up was a slow but steady progress and pushing too hard would only result in him retreating again. This was definitely a step in the right direction, however, and Jensen knew they would get there eventually.

He just had to be patient.

Granted, patience wasn't usually one of Jensen's virtues — he didn't have all that many to begin with — but, since this concerned Alvarez's well-being, Jensen was prepared to let it take however long was needed.

Alvarez deserved every ounce of dedication Jensen had to give.

Their fourth mission together was a long one, grueling from start to finish. Jensen wasn't sure who suffered the most, though he certainly complained the loudest. He made sure to keep an extra eye on Alvarez and if he happened to gently brush his hand against the small of Alvarez's back whenever that worrying tension bled into his posture, no one had to know.

Well, Clay knew.

Jensen wasn't sure when Clay had noticed, but he didn't say anything so neither did Jensen. The important part was that whenever Jensen touched Alvarez, he relaxed within seconds. Alvarez was doing much better than when he had first joined the team, but there was no denying that his silences could still get worrying. Keeping Jensen within touching distance seemed to help, though, and that was really the only thing that mattered.

Considering Clay's silence, he seemed to agree.

Jensen wasn't entirely sure when his world changed so drastically that he could no longer picture his life without Alvarez in it. The man had been with the team for almost five months, sure — which meant they were nearing the end of Alvarez's trial period — but Jensen was pretty certain that it shouldn't have happened that fast.

Alvarez shouldn't have become one of Jensen's constants in such a short amount of time.

They were good friends by then, Jensen liked to think, but it was, at the same time, so much more than that. It was the fact that whenever it got cold on missions, Alvarez was the one Jensen turned to when he wanted to share some body heat. Several times he had fallen asleep to the soft sound of Alvarez's breathing, snuggled just a little bit closer than might be necessary — or appropriate. It was the fact that Alvarez never seemed to tire of listening to Jensen talk, be it about stupid facts he had learned or long rants about Jess and Beth. It was the fact that Alvarez, without even trying, had gone from one of the coldest, most indifferent people Jensen knew to one of the kindest.

Alvarez was still shy about it, never wanting recognition or gratitude, but there was no denying that the man had a big heart. It took a while to find behind those walls he had built up, but it looked like Jensen had finally managed to worm his way past Alvarez's defenses.

The man underneath all that was nothing short of extraordinary.

Which didn't exactly make Jensen fall _less_ in love, but that was his problem and he would deal with it accordingly.

For now, the only thing that really mattered was the fact that Alvarez was smiling more and more, looking happier for each day that passed. Jensen would do a whole lot to make sure that Alvarez kept smiling, even if it meant slowly but surely smothering his steadily growing love for the man.

He had to prioritize Alvarez's well-being.

The first time Jensen made Alvarez laugh, it took them all by surprise. It was a regular Thursday evening and Alvarez was visiting — he was at the team's house more often than his own room at that point — when Jensen decided to challenge him to a game of poker. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he was quickly proven wrong.

By the end of the fifth round, Jensen slapped his cards back onto to the coffee table and glared at his currently not-so-nice friend.

"You're cheating," he accused. "I don't know _how_ , but you have _got_ to be cheating."

The wide-eyed look on Alvarez's face was deceptively innocent, but Jensen wasn't falling for it — he could see Alvarez's lip twitching with a barely contained smile.

"Don't give me that look. I'm on to you."

Alvarez gave an offended huff but that, too, was clearly just an act.

"Oh no, I won't fall for that, Mr. Sniper Man. I _know_ you're cheating."

The two of them stared at each other for several long seconds before Alvarez, all of a sudden, let out a bark of laughter. It completely transformed his face and Jensen couldn't help that he forgot to breathe, just staring at how _happy_ Alvarez looked.

Pooch, who was reading in the armchair opposite Jensen, looked just as surprised.

Neither of them had ever heard Alvarez laugh before. Even his smiles were few and far in between.

Alvarez shrugged, as if to say "shit happens," and tossed his cards onto the table. He was looking unbearably smug, still smiling, and no matter how much Jensen tried to hold on to his annoyance, he just couldn't. In that moment, everything about Alvarez was just beautiful beyond words. The sparkle of mirth in his eyes, the loose confidence in his posture, and the way he looked so utterly comfortable and at ease.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had joined their team just five months ago. Gone were the awkward silences and expressionless stares, replaced by warmth and a surprising amount of playfulness.

Jensen couldn't be happier.

"Okay, I accept this challenge," Pooch announced, scooting closer while waving towards the cards spread out on the coffee table. "Hit me up and I'll see if I can't win over this alleged cheater of ours."

"Your funeral," Jensen replied, but obediently gathered up the deck.

As he was shuffling the cards, Jensen just happened to catch Alvarez's gaze, still not quite able to look away. Alvarez, the bastard, had the audacity to _wink_ at him and that, if anything, was an admission of guilt as far as Jensen was concerned.

He simply shook his head, trying to hold back his own smile, and dealt the next round of cards for the three of them.

As they got closer and closer to the end of Alvarez's trial period, Jensen began to get antsy. He thought Alvarez was doing a pretty good job — he was a reliable soldier, exceptionally skilled at what he did, and had made vast improvements over the past couple of months — but Jensen still had no idea if Clay would let him stay.

Jensen wasn't sure what he would do if Alvarez had to leave.

It wasn't just the fact that they had become friends, but Alvarez seemed to genuinely like being a part of the team and the team liked him in return. He was an extra addition that they might not have known that they were missing, but they certainly would if he was transferred.

Alvarez fit.

Jensen _had_ tried asking Clay about it, but the colonel hadn't really given a tangible reply. That probably meant that Clay was still thinking about it, even if Jensen couldn't figure out what there was to think about. Alvarez was perfect for the team. He still had some baggage, sure, and more bad days than the rest of them combined, but they were working on that.

It would be a mistake to let Alvarez go, Jensen was sure of it.

Jensen knew he was getting a little out of hand. The uncertainty over Alvarez's future made Jensen's anxiety skyrocket and he kept trying to spend as much time with Alvarez and talk as much as possible, as if he was afraid he'd never have the chance again. But, true to his habit, Jensen didn't actually say anything of importance. He didn't manage to explain just how much he wanted Alvarez to stay and that he would miss him terribly if he had to leave. He wasn't able to formulate just how much Alvarez had come to mean to him in the past months, and never quite found the words to express how grateful he was that they were friends.

There was so much Jensen wanted to say, but he didn't know how. So he ended up talking about nonsense instead, filling every minute they spent together with pointless chatter, simply because he didn't know what else to do. He wanted so desperately to cling to Alvarez and never let go, but knew he couldn't.

Jensen didn't even realize just how keyed up he had gotten until Alvarez — in the middle of a long rant about power plants — suddenly took Jensen's face between his hands, stopping him short.

" _Cálmate_." Alvarez's gaze was firm but the word was nothing more than a whisper.

Jensen wasn't sure how to react, practically vibrating with tension and the need to _talk_ and _move_ and _treasure whatever time he and Alvarez had left,_ even if it meant behaving like an idiot. He swallowed, not sure if his racing heartbeat was because of stress or the close proximity to the man he had an unfortunate crush on.

" _Cálmate_ , Jake. _Sólo respira_."

That was the first time Alvarez had called him by his first name and Jensen was so distracted that he didn't even notice when the tension started to bleed out of him. Perhaps it was the hushed Spanish or the way Alvarez held his gaze — his dark eyes gentle yet concerned — but something tight and aching inside Jensen's chest suddenly loosened. He almost started trembling from the relief, taking a deep breath like Alvarez had instructed.

Alvarez smiled, his right thumb stroking Jensen's cheek. He didn't say anything, but there was enough care and warmth in his gaze that he didn't have to.

A lump lodged in Jensen's throat and, before he had time to change his mind, he wrapped his arms around Alvarez's waist and pulled him in for a hug. The embrace clearly took Alvarez by surprise, but the initial stiffness left him within seconds and he soon slipped his arms around Jensen's neck in return.

" _Cálmate_ ," Alvarez whispered again, his fingers gently stroking the back of Jensen's neck. The touch held such tenderness that Jensen almost whimpered.

As much as Jensen had longed to hug Alvarez over the past couple of months — mostly to offer comfort but also because of his own tactile nature — he realized now that doing so might have been a mistake. Not because it felt bad, but rather the complete opposite.

Now, more than ever, Jensen was sure that he never wanted to let go.

And that would no doubt lead to trouble, one way or another.

Keeping his feelings in check was getting more and more difficult and Jensen had no idea how Alvarez would react if he ever found out that Jensen was in love with him. He liked to think that Alvarez wouldn't hate him, but that was something that was difficult to predict since he and Alvarez hadn't exactly broached the subject.

It was the fear of Alvarez's reaction, more so than the threat of DADT, that made Jensen stay quiet. He knew he would be devastated if Alvarez decided to cut ties with him, so it was better not to risk it.

Silence was definitely the better option.

They got sent on their fifth mission two days before Clay had to make his decision about Alvarez's future and Jensen could admit that his performance suffered accordingly. He was far too worried to focus on the mission. To make matters worse, Alvarez seemed unsettlingly calm about it, which only served to make Jensen more nervous.

The mission itself was fairly straightforward — cut off the illegal weapons smuggling a Honduran general was involved in — but, naturally, executing it proved more difficult than initially planned. There were _a lot_ more guards than the intel had specified and they had to change plans in the middle of the op.

Due to this, Jensen felt it wasn't his fault that he got captured.

He knew he should consider himself lucky that they bothered to catch him alive instead of just shooting him on the spot. Then again, he supposed he was worth more to them alive — proof of American meddling in foreign affairs — but he still wasn't happy about being forced onto his knees and pistol-whipped so hard his ears rang.

He could hear Clay over the comms, demanding to know what was going on, but Jensen was too busy being dizzy to really formulate a reply. He had no idea what the rest of the team was up to — if they were close enough to attempt a rescue — and he didn't get to stay conscious long enough to find out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know me, there has to be at least one cliffhanger if the fic is longer than three chapters!
> 
> If you want to come yell at me, feel free to join the [18+ Losers Discord server](https://discord.gg/FjE7Zn4)! It's a place where you can hang out with other fans and share your fics, art, thoughts, or just screech about how much you love the Losers. Do note that it's only for those above 18, however!
> 
> See you on Friday, my lovelies!


	3. The Breaking Point

 

* * *

 

Jensen came to in a dank-smelling room with a sliver of a window casting a rectangle of light against the concrete floor. He was clearly in a basement somewhere, tied down, and his lack of gear — both weapons and tech — didn't bode well.

He had been captured before and it was never a pleasant experience, especially since there were no guarantees that help would be coming. Clay would do everything he could to not leave Jensen behind, but the question was if they thought he was alive or not. Unfortunately, Jensen had no idea what had happened in between him getting hit in the face and him waking up, so there was no telling how his disappearance appeared to the rest of the team.

Jensen tried not to think about Alvarez. If there was one person's well-being that Jensen was currently more worried about than his own, it would be Alvarez's. The man was so fiercely protective — so caring and loyal — that it didn't take a genius to figure out that Alvarez wouldn't be handling the situation very well. Jensen getting captured would no doubt set Alvarez back in his recovery by reopening old wounds and awakening the grief of losing his previous team.

Hopefully, Jensen wouldn't become another tally on the list of people Alvarez had to mourn.

Jensen swallowed, pushing the thought aside. For now, all he could do was bide his time and wait for an opportunity to make his escape. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get out of this mess before he missed his ride home.

It didn't take long before the first pair of guards came and, with them, the first round of beating. Jensen had had much worse, though, and zoned out the pain in favor of composing a letter to Beth inside his head.

The second time the guards came to his cell he was given some water, which was nice, but the kick to his ribs that followed shortly after was less so. Still, it could have been worse.

The third time the door opened, he was pulled up from the floor and marched through whatever facility he had been brought to. It wasn't the one the Losers had hit — there couldn't be much left of that building once Roque had had a go with his explosives — but it looked similar enough that Jensen felt just a little disoriented.

Jensen forced himself to focus, knowing he couldn't allow himself to get distracted. The best thing he could do was to find a way to escape and make his way back to his team.

After several winding corridors, Jensen was led into a room on the second floor and neatly placed in front of the Honduran general. Jensen hadn't bothered to learn the man's name, mostly because he hadn't been their target. From what the Losers had been told, the general wasn't supposed to be anywhere _near_ the smuggling operation, but perhaps he was on an unscheduled inspection.

Jensen supposed that explained the extra security — the general had brought some of his own.

He only listened with half an ear as the general monologued about his accomplishments, prioritizing his need to find a way out. Jensen was still restrained, but it was with some kind of cheap synthetic rope instead of cuffs, which would probably have been more difficult to get out of.

By the time the general started waving a gun around, threatening to blow Jensen head off, he decided he might as well make a break for it. There were only four guards in the room that Jensen was aware of and his chances of success would be significantly lower if he was brought back to his cell.

While Jensen _would_ like to blame his calm in the face of very possible death on professionalism, he knew the real reason was desperate compartmentalizing. He didn't allow himself to consider failure — nor the pain in his ribs and the smears of blood on his face — because, if he did, he might falter.

He could panic later, preferably when he was back with his team.

Slipping his hands free of the rope without anyone noticing was no small feat, while overpowering the general and stealing his gun was, in comparison, laughably easy. For some reason, despite Jensen's height and general build, people had a tendency to underestimate him.

That was a mistake the Honduran general only made once since Jensen decided to take the opportunity to shoot the bastard while he had the chance. The guards weren't too happy about that, but Jensen was already making a mad dash for the window. As far as escape routes went it wasn't ideal, but he didn't exactly have a whole lot of options.

He'd rather take his chances than stick around and get shot.

The jump from the second story window would have been a lot easier if his bruised ribs hadn't made his tuck and roll painfully awkward, but he somehow managed to avoid breaking any bones. He would definitely feel it in the morning, though.

But that was a later problem. For now, his main concern was avoiding the bullets being fired at him and somehow finding his way back to his team.

Thankfully, Jensen was, as ever, an optimist.

Navigating through the jungle with aching ribs and a possible concussion was not on Jensen's list of fun activities. He decided on a course based on the placement of the sun, the plume of smoke he knew came from the wrecked facility, and sheer guesswork, slowly but surely making his way toward what he hoped was the rendezvous point.

He knew the weapon smugglers were after him — he could hear their shouts in the distance — but there was no time to find a safe little crevice and hide. Unless he wanted to get left in the jungle, Jensen needed to make it to the chopper in time. Thankfully, he had managed to hold on to the general's gun, clutching it a little tighter than recommended, and could defend himself if necessary.

As he walked — each step followed by a firework-burst of agony — Jensen's thoughts inevitably drifted back to Alvarez. Jensen had done a pretty good job of _not_ thinking about Alvarez, but now, when he was out of immediate danger and on his way back to his team, the worry returned tenfold.

As much as Jensen liked to stay positive and hope for the best, he wasn't foolish enough to think that this was one of the times when it would do him any good. Alvarez would _not_ be in good shape when Jensen eventually found his way back. If Jensen knew Alvarez — which he did — the man would be slowly crumbling under the shock and grief.

Jensen quickened his strides, hoping to shorten Alvarez's suffering as much as possible.

The sooner he made it to his team, the better.

It took Jensen another hour to shake off the angry smugglers and, by the time he found the team's camp, the sun had set, leaving him stumbling around in the dark, more or less blind. Roque was the one on guard duty and had probably heard Jensen coming from a mile away, but was kind enough not to point that out. While he might be rough around the edges and mildly terrifying, Roque did care about the team, and there was no mistaking his relief when he clapped a hand on Jensen's shoulder.

"Took you long enough," was all he said, but the way Roque squeezed Jensen's shoulder — just tight enough to show the concern he was no doubt unable to put into words — was heartwarming.

"Oh, you know me," Jensen replied, grinning despite the pain in his ribs and blood on his face. If his hands fumbled a little when he tucked the stolen gun away, Roque, again, was kind enough not to mention it. "I love the scenic route."

Roque snorted on a laugh before pushing Jensen towards the encampment. "Go. The others are waiting."

Jensen licked his lips, his stomach twisting with dread. "Alvarez?" he asked, softer than he had intended.

Roque hesitated — which was a bad enough sign all on its own — before he gave Jensen another nudge. It was too dark to see the look on his face.

"Just go."

That did _not_ bode well. Jensen swallowed and, after a quick nod to Roque, headed towards the camp, following the distant glow of the lit fire. He needed to find Alvarez. Concern was mingling with fear, making it difficult to draw breath — or maybe that was because of his bruised ribs.

Thankfully, Jensen soon reached the camp, ungracefully stepping into the warm circle of light. Pooch and Clay sat next to the fire, their heads snapping up at Jensen's arrival.

"J!" Pooch shot to his feet, his smile a painful mix of relief and lingering distress. "Thank God, we thought you were gone, man!"

Even as he accepted the slightly desperate hug from Pooch — with a small wince of pain because of his ribs — Jensen's gaze searched for Alvarez amongst the packs and unrolled sleeping bags. His heart clenched when he realized Alvarez wasn't there.

Jensen looked at Clay, his panic only growing when seeing the expression on his face. Clay was smiling, clearly happy to see Jensen more or less in one piece, but there was an underlying tension to it and a tightness around his eyes that spoke of bad, bad things.

"Alvarez?" Jensen asked as soon as Pooch took a step back, congratulating himself when his voice didn't crack.

"Down by the river," Clay replied, nodding toward a nearby slope. The river couldn't be seen from where they were standing, trees and bushes hiding it from view, but Jensen remembered it from the maps the team had been studying.

"How bad is it?" Jensen dreaded the answer but he had to know.

Clay let out a slow breath as he walked up and placed a heavy hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Bad enough that I'm asking you to talk to him as soon as you can. Unless you need medical attention?" There was something not unlike defeat in Clay's eyes — as if this whole situation was a failure on his part — but Jensen didn't have time to delve any deeper into that.

Alvarez took priority.

"No, I'll manage, Colonel," Jensen replied with a tight smile. His ribs still hurt but not so much that he couldn't ignore them in favor of something more important — like Alvarez's mental health.

Pooch remained silent but gave Jensen's back a comforting pat when he turned to head towards the river. Jensen was too worried to offer more than a brief smile in return, already busy running through possibilities of what he would find when he located Alvarez.

A part of him was angry that the rest of the team had simply let Alvarez drift off to do God knows what, but, at the same time, he knew that Alvarez wouldn't have let them help. Jensen was the only one who Alvarez allowed to come that close, maintaining a careful distance to everyone else. The problem being, of course, when Jensen wasn't there.

It wasn't doable in the long run, Jensen knew that. Alvarez couldn't be this dependent on him — Clay would never allow it and Jensen couldn't say that he enjoyed it, either. Being needed was a good feeling, sure, but not at the expense of Alvarez's independence — not when Alvarez might fall apart the day Jensen didn't return home from a mission.

Today had only been a close call and it was clearly bad enough.

Jensen stumbled his way through the undergrowth, biting back curses as he tried to find a relatively safe path to the river. He wasn't overly graceful at the best of times and with a couple of bruised ribs and nothing to light his path, he was an outright disaster. He should have asked for a flashlight, but his urgency had gotten the better of him.

He could hear the sound of rushing water and soon stepped out onto the low, rocky riverbank. Fortunately, the moon was up, shedding enough light that Jensen could easily spot Alvarez sitting on a boulder further down the stream. It was impossible to say what Alvarez was doing — if anything at all — but Jensen knew that he better tread lightly.

With their luck, Alvarez was in the middle of a flashback.

Jensen carefully picked his way along the rocks, his heart hammering. He knew Alvarez would hear him coming, as long as he was present enough to actually pay attention to his surroundings.

When he was about eight feet away, Jensen stopped. His hands were shaking, both from nerves and lingering pain, but he tried his best to ignore that.

"Alvarez?" His voice sounded startlingly loud in the dark night, even if it was hoarse from worry.

Alvarez stiffened — showing that he had heard — but he didn't turn around. Jensen could see the tension in Alvarez's shoulders and the way he hunched forward, as if to shield himself. Jensen swallowed down the guilt, knowing he was probably at fault.

If Alvarez was convinced that Jensen was dead, hearing him speak had to be excruciating.

After a deep, trembling breath, Jensen tried again. "Alvarez? It's me."

There was still no reply other than Alvarez's head dipping forward, which Jensen suspected was a bad thing. Jensen took a step closer, knowing he might be making a mistake, but what else could he do? Just standing there trying to talk to Alvarez clearly wouldn't help.

Carefully, hoping not to startle him too badly, Jensen placed a hand on Alvarez's shoulder. A part of him wasn't surprised when Alvarez flinched at the contact, but, at the same time, Jensen couldn't help the brief flash of hurt. That became secondary, however, when Alvarez started pulling away entirely, as if intending to rise from the rock he was sitting on.

"No! Hey, no, no, no." Jensen moved quickly, rounding the rock to crouch in front of Alvarez, completely ignoring the screaming agony in his ribs. He managed to grab Alvarez's hand, even if it made him feel guilty to hold him back when he so clearly wanted to leave. "It's okay. It's me."

Alvarez's was face hidden by the brim of his hat but there was no mistaking the panic thrumming through him. Jensen tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, forcing himself not to reach out and touch Alvarez more than he already was. That probably wouldn't be met favorably.

"Hey, it's okay." Jensen knew his voice was trembling, his worry getting the better of him. "Will you look at me?" he asked carefully, his thumb rubbing against Alvarez's tightly clenched knuckles. "Carlos?"

Alvarez flinched as if he had been hit, tugging sharply to free his hand from Jensen's grip. It was a reflex more than anything to tighten his hold, but Jensen felt bad all the same. He could hear an unmistakable hitch in Alvarez's breath.

"Carlos, please." Jensen was beginning to panic. He knew Alvarez wanted him to let go but, if he did, Alvarez might simply rush off into the jungle — fueled by whatever survival instinct was currently in charge — and never find his way back. Alvarez was far too unstable.

"Will you—" Jensen cut himself off, swallowed, and decided to throw caution to the wind. He reached up and, as gently as possible, pushed the hat off of Alvarez's head. Then he carefully framed Alvarez's face with his hands, his words soft and urging. " _Please_ , look at me, Carlos."

When he no longer had the hat to hide behind, it seemed like Alvarez _couldn't_ look anywhere but at Jensen. His gaze snapped up and, when their gazes locked, he sucked in a sharp, whistling breath. The expression on Alvarez's face was the familiar blank one but his eyes were wide and dark with anguish — filled with so much desperation and despair.

Jensen's heart squeezed at the sight, his throat tight.

"Shh," he whispered. "It's okay." His hands slipped further, one settling behind Alvarez's neck, the other gently combing through his hair. "I'm here."

For a couple of seconds, it seemed like the entire world had stilled, Jensen holding his breath while Alvarez stared, unblinking. Then, between one beat and the next, Alvarez shattered.

He let out a low, wounded noise — a painful, half-choked sob — before sliding down from his perch and into Jensen's arms. Jensen wasn't quite prepared for the extra weight and managed to avoid toppling over mostly thanks to sheer luck, but it still sent a lash of pain through his ribs. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on Alvarez.

"It's okay. I'm sorry." Jensen turned his head, burying his nose in Alvarez's hair. "I'm sorry I worried you. I tried to get back as fast as I could."

Hands closed around Jensen's clothes, clenching tight enough to tug on the fabric, as if Alvarez was trying desperately to hold on to anything within reach. Alvarez was shaking, his breaths ragged, but it still took Jensen a moment to realize that Alvarez was crying.

He had never seen Alvarez cry before — not even when mourning his lost team.

A lump settled uncomfortably in Jensen's throat. He gently stroked Alvarez's hair, feeling his own eyes begin to burn. Jensen had no idea if the tears were out of sympathy for Alvarez's suffering or if the seriousness of the situation had finally caught up with him.

Jensen could have died. He had been captured and beaten and could so easily have died. He really couldn't blame Alvarez for being so distraught — it had been a terrifyingly close call.

Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, preferring not to think about that. He was fine now — that was all that mattered. They would get through this, just like everything else. It might take time and there might be another set of nightmares to keep Jensen awake at night, but he was undeniably alive.

"I'm sorry," Jensen whispered again, his heart breaking from hearing Alvarez's sobs.

He didn't know what to do.

Even while grieving, Alvarez had seemed so untouchable that it came as a shock to actually see him break down. Alvarez mumbled something in Spanish, the words lost against Jensen's shoulders, but he thought he caught 'dead' in there somewhere — he could guess the rest.

"I know," Jensen said, voice hushed. "I'm sorry. I'm not dead. I promise you, Carlos. I'm a little banged up, but not dead."

It was difficult to tell if Alvarez was listening or not, but Jensen decided that didn't matter all that much. He would repeat the words once Alvarez had calmed down. For now, it was probably better to let him cry — to finally give Alvarez an outlet for all those emotions that had been brewing inside of him for God knew how long.

The jungle was silent around them save for the humming of nocturnal insects, creating a soothing white noise in the background. Moonlight played in Alvarez's hair and — had the situation been different — Jensen might have appreciated that more.

Now he chose to focus on remaining a stable presence for Alvarez to lean on.

"I've got you," he said, pressing a kiss against Alvarez's hair, not even reflecting on how not-platonic he was behaving. "It's okay."

It might take a while before that was true — neither of them was okay, strictly speaking — but Jensen knew they would get there eventually. Alvarez had come too far for them to give up now.

Jensen let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. "We'll get through this," he promised.

"How's he doing?" Clay asked.

Jensen looked up from where he stood kneeling on the riverbank, trying to wash the blood off his face. The position hurt quite a lot, but Pooch had assured him that his ribs were merely bruised, not broken, so Jensen had decided to risk it.

Jensen let out a sigh, wiping the dripping water from his face. "About as well as you'd expect," he replied, not quite able to hold back the curtness, even if he knew that none of this was Clay's fault.

Alvarez had been more or less catatonic when he eventually stopped crying, silent and docile in a way that had been both disconcerting and frightening. Jensen had carefully led him back to the camp and tucked him in, all while ignoring the concerned glances from Pooch and Clay. Jensen wasn't surprised that Clay came to find him afterward, wanting an update, but it frustrated him all the same. He was tired, injured, and really not in the mood to discuss something he knew might make Clay less likely to allow Alvarez to stay with the team.

There was a brief moment of silence before Clay spoke again.

"His previous team died."

That was not what Jensen had expected him to say and he felt a flare of annoyance that Clay saw it fit to divulge that information. It should have been Alvarez who made that choice. Well, he already had, technically, at least as far as Jensen was concerned.

"I know," Jensen replied, giving Clay a crooked smile. "He told me."

Clay seemed surprised by that, but the distant moonlight was hardly enough to allow Jensen to see his features clearly.

"And you're going to hold this against him," Jensen continued, looking down into the dark water in front of him. He braced his hand against a nearby rock and, with a pained grimace, pushed himself to his feet, manfully ignoring his slight wobble. "But you know his reaction is pretty understandable."

Clay sighed, rubbing his forehead. "If he's too unstable to—"

"Did he jeopardize the mission?" Jensen cut in. He knew that he probably shouldn't be interrupting his superior officer, but he suspected that this conversation wasn't official anyway.

There was another pause before Clay shook his head. "No, he didn't. Even after you got taken, he remained focused on the mission. It was only once we got here that he..." Clay gestured vaguely, clearly not sure what words to use to describe Alvarez's episode.

"I know he's not in top shape. Trust me, Colonel — I know that better than anyone — but that doesn't mean we should give up on him." Jensen ran a hand through his hair, trying, for once, to pick his words carefully. "He's made such progress this past couple of months and we both know he can overcome this. Is this a setback? Yes, of course it is. But he'll keep fighting — I know he will."

Clay said nothing, a suffocating silence hanging between them. Jensen swallowed, feeling a rush of desperation.

"Please, don't send him away." Jensen knew his voice trembled, but there wasn't much he could do to stop that. "I fully acknowledge that he might be too dependent on me right now, but that will change. He's strong enough to beat this."

Clay let out another sigh, this one slightly lighter than the last. "I'll think about it," was all he replied.

As much as Jensen wanted to continue to argue in Alvarez's favor, he knew when to back off. Clay never made promises he didn't intend to keep, so pushing him for answers wouldn't amount to anything. Jensen would simply have to wait and see what Clay decided and, in the meantime, make sure to do what he could to help keep Alvarez on an even keel.

By the time they returned to base, Alvarez was again responsive, but all the more evasive. He replied only with nods or shakes of his head and refused to meet anyone's gaze. Jensen was pretty sure that had to do more with shame than anything else and therefore didn't confront him. They were all a little shaken from Jensen getting captured and needed some time to settle. The deadline for Clay's decision concerning Alvarez had come and gone during their mission, but Jensen hoped that meant that they would get an extension.

Jensen could still fix this.

So he decided to wait a couple of days before attempting to talk to Alvarez, knowing he was more likely to get results that way.

What Jensen _hadn't_ expected was for Alvarez to come to see _him_. Usually, especially after one of Alvarez's bad days, Jensen had to chase the other man down to even get a word out of him. Some might have taken the change as something positive — a sign that Alvarez was improving and wasn't afraid of seeking company when needed — but Jensen wasn't so sure.

The blank look on Alvarez's face when he suddenly appeared in Jensen's doorway was anything but comforting.

Jensen quickly shoved down his surprise in favor of a wide grin, turning his computer chair to face Alvarez. "Hi!" he said brightly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Alvarez hovered uncertainly on the threshold. He hadn't been in Jensen's room many times and clearly wasn't sure what to make of the eclectic mess of geeky collectibles and electronic equipment spread out over every available surface. He barely seemed to notice any of it this time, however, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Jensen felt a clench of dread, unable to read the expression on Alvarez's face.

"You okay?" he asked, not sure if he actually wanted to hear the answer.

Alvarez's gaze snapped up to meet his, but his eyes remained disturbingly blank.

"I should quit."

Nope. Jensen definitely didn't like that answer.

His first instinct was to protest, but he swallowed the urge in favor of a more calm approach. This was no doubt related to what had happened on their last mission — perhaps also the fact that Clay had yet to make a decision about Alvarez's future — and Jensen knew he had to tread lightly.

"Why?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone neutral. The phrasing — the use of 'should' rather than 'will' — suggested that Alvarez hadn't made an actual decision yet. Jensen wasn't sure if Alvarez genuinely wanted to quit or if he simply believed it to be the best course of action.

Either way, the thought must have been brewing for a while — Alvarez was no doubt self-aware enough to see the signs of his own slipping mental health — and his reaction to what had happened to Jensen was what tipped him over the edge.

Alvarez averted his gaze, which was the first sign that quitting might not be what he wanted.

"I'm unstable," he replied, still hovering in Jensen's doorway as if afraid to sit down. Granted that the only available surface for him to sit on was Jensen's messy, unmade bed and that might feel a little too intimate right now.

"Yeah, you are," Jensen agreed, knowing it was a bad idea to lie. His words made Alvarez flinch, sure, but he would have been even more upset if Jensen tried to tell him something they both knew wasn't true. "But you're getting better," Jensen added.

Alvarez frowned, shifting his weight in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. He wasn't one who fiddled. Usually, each movement he made was carefully controlled and gracefully executed.

"I'm..." Alvarez hesitated, eventually finishing the sentence. "A liability."

Jensen maintained a calm expression even if his heart was racing. He didn't like this conversation but he knew it was one they had to have. If Alvarez was worried that he was holding the team back, someone needed to explain to him that he was wrong.

"You've never jeopardized one of our missions," Jensen replied.

Alvarez looked up, frustration sparking in his dark eyes. "I broke down," he snapped.

Jensen had to wonder if he had ever heard Alvarez angry before. He had _seen_ Alvarez angry, sure — or at least filled with protective fury — but never had it shown in his voice.

Jensen couldn't say that he was enjoying the experience.

" _After_ the mission." Jensen got up from his computer chair, pushing back the flare of pain in his ribs. With how hostile Alvarez was being, Jensen was beginning to feel at a disadvantage while sitting down. "And no one blames you for that."

The only one who did seemed to be Alvarez himself.

"I was weak."

The words were spoken with such disgust that Jensen couldn't quite control his temper anymore.

"Caring isn't a weakness." Jensen took a step closer in challenge, even if he knew that it was probably a bad idea for this to escalate into an argument. "And you're not the only one who feels bad about what happened. Pooch keeps insisting on keeping track of my injuries and — even if he'd never admit it — Clay checks in every night, just to make sure I'm still here. Even Roque has been ridiculously nice to me since we got back."

They stared at each other, Alvarez's eyes blazing. He didn't say anything, though, so Jensen decided to continue.

"You're not any worse than—"

"I'm a _burden_ ," Alvarez snarled, his eyes wild and voice laced with self-depreciation. But at least the outburst seemed to have released some of the tension he carried, his shoulders lowering in defeat. He looked away, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat and his jaw clenched tight.

Jensen suspected that they were getting closer to the heart of the matter.

"You're not a burden." Jensen dared to step closer, gently touching Alvarez's arm. He wasn't surprised when Alvarez flinched at the contact, but at least he didn't shy away. "I can see why you'd think that, but you're not."

Alvarez refused to look at him, his shoulders rising again, but this time it seemed to be from defensiveness, not anger.

"I..." Jensen licked his lips and started over, his voice low and careful. "If you really want to quit, of course I'll support you. But please don't do it because you think you're a burden. You're a great asset to the team and, more importantly, you're my friend."

Without really knowing why, Jensen's heart started racing. They were friends by now, he knew that, but saying it out loud somehow made it more real. Not to mention that Jensen was a little afraid that Alvarez would find out that he wanted _more_ than friendship.

For some reason, Jensen decided that it was a good idea to continue talking.

"I'm not gonna lie — I want you to stay. Mostly for selfish reasons because you're... well, you're awesome. And I'd miss you. A lot." Jensen glanced down at his feet, knowing that he was skirting a dangerous edge but unable to stop. "I don't want you to stay because of that — it should be your decision — but we've gotten to know each other pretty well during this past couple of months and I can't help that I—"

Jensen bit off the words just in time. He had been far too close to finishing that sentence with a confession that Alvarez no doubt didn't want to hear. Hopefully, Alvarez hadn't noticed what direction Jensen had been heading.

After clearing his throat, Jensen gave Alvarez a smile, be it a slightly forced one. "I'd miss you."

Alvarez remained quiet for another couple of seconds, then shook his head. It was difficult to tell exactly what he wanted to say with that, but Jensen felt his heart sink.

While he meant every word — it was up to Alvarez to decide what to do with his life — Jensen would be lying if he said that the thought of Alvarez leaving didn't hurt. Alvarez shouldn't stay because Jensen wanted him to, but it would have been nice to be worth staying for.

Jensen swallowed, ignoring the growing knot in his chest. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "Whatever you choose to do, I'm on your side, okay? Just let me know what you need and I'll do what I can to help."

He had barely even finished the sentence before Alvarez spoke up. "And what do _you_ need?"

Jensen blinked. "What? Me?" He shook his head. "That doesn't matter. This is about you."

That answer, for some reason, only seemed to make Alvarez more frustrated. He gritted his teeth and muttered something under his breath, much too low for Jensen to hear. After a sharp sigh, Alvarez looked up to catch Jensen's gaze and there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes.

Something like panic blossomed in Jensen's chest.

"What?" he asked. Alvarez had never been angry with him before. Annoyed and exasperated, sure, but never actually _angry_. Jensen didn't like the feeling. "What did I say?"

For a split second, it looked like Alvarez might reply, but then he shook his head again. The anger was still there, even if he was clearly trying to push it back. Without a word, Alvarez turned to leave.

The panic bled into desperation.

"What did I do?" Jensen was a little ashamed of how his voice wavered, but he couldn't help it. The conversation was slipping through his fingers and he wasn't sure what kind of damage he had done. He needed to fix it. "I didn't—"

"Nothing." Alvarez had stopped in the doorway, his face hidden by his hat. Jensen could still see the stiffness of his shoulders, though, and was only marginally comforted when Alvarez continued, "You did nothing wrong, Jake."

Jensen swallowed, not sure if he liked the use of his first name. Usually, he would have, but Alvarez only ever did that when they were being extra serious.

"Then what?" he asked, trying to ignore the frightened beating of his heart.

Alvarez let out a soft sigh, his taut shoulders lowering. "I need time." He turned his head, just enough that Jensen could catch a glimpse of his face, but not his gaze. Alvarez looked calmer now, but there was still something wrong judging by the clench of his jaw — a wariness that shouldn't be there. "To think."

As much as it pained Jensen to back down, he knew he had to. This wasn't one of the times when he could coax what he wanted out of Alvarez by being stubborn. Jensen needed to respect Alvarez's boundaries, just as he said he would.

"Okay. Of course." Jensen sucked in a sharp breath when Alvarez immediately made to leave. "Just—" Jensen swallowed again, grateful that Alvarez stopped long enough to hear him finish the sentence. "You'll tell me, right? When you've decided?"

A silence lay between them, thick and unwieldy, but Alvarez eventually nodded. Then, without saying anything more, he left.

Jensen tried to tell himself that this wasn't the beginning of their goodbye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this could also be called a cliffhanger? So, uh, sorry about that?
> 
> Also, I want to point out that what Jensen is doing to himself isn't healthy. He is too focused on taking care of Carlos that he forgets to take care of himself. This will, however, be addressed, don't worry. Carlos almost did it there in the last scene, but it will be brought up again.


	4. The Separation

 

* * *

 

In the end, it was Clay who told Jensen whether or not Alvarez would be staying with the team but, to be fair, that wasn't necessarily Alvarez's fault. Clay just happened to be close at hand what with him and Jensen living in the same house. It was understandable if he beat Alvarez to the punch.

Deep down, in a part of himself Jensen would rather ignore, he couldn't help wondering if Alvarez had counted on that, however. Despite his promise, Alvarez never actually brought up the subject, meaning that he must have assumed all along that Clay would be the one to tell Jensen. Or perhaps he'd even asked him to.

Neither thought was comforting.

Still, while Jensen would have preferred to have heard it from the man himself, he was relieved to learn that Alvarez had decided to stay.

Now, hopefully, Alvarez could settle down and heal.

Slowly but surely, Jensen recovered from his injuries. Usually, that would be a source of great relief — Jensen really wasn't a fan of pain — but he was much too distracted by his growing worry to notice.

Alvarez was avoiding him.

It had taken Jensen a couple of days to even admit it, but there was no denying that Alvarez was keeping his distance. Before Jensen got captured, they had seen each other more or less every day, but now Alvarez was nowhere in sight.

There had been no explanation as to why — it was difficult to demand one when Alvarez evaded any and all attempts to be found — and Jensen had no idea how to interpret that. Sure, Alvarez had asked for some time to think, but Jensen hadn't thought that meant radio silence. They could still hang out while Alvarez thought things through, right?

Unless Jensen had done something to make Alvarez keep his distance. Their last conversation had been pretty tense and while Alvarez had told him that nothing was wrong, Jensen had known that was a lie.

Something was definitely wrong.

He tried to find Alvarez and ask about it, but that was just impossible. Locating Alvarez had never been this difficult before, which made Jensen wonder if Alvarez had _let_ himself be found there at the beginning of their friendship, or if he simply hadn't bothered to actually hide those times.

Either way, Jensen saw neither hide nor hair of him. He knew Alvarez was still on base — Jensen had sneaked a peek at his records — but his sniper friend clearly didn't want to see him right now.

It broke Jensen's heart, especially since he wasn't even sure what he'd done wrong. Usually, if people avoided him, he at least knew what to apologize for, but Alvarez had told him absolutely nothing. And, even if Jensen _had_ known, Alvarez clearly didn't want to give him an opportunity to apologize, either.

Had Jensen pushed too hard? Should he have let Alvarez quit?

It hurt even more to know that Alvarez was still talking to Clay and, to some extent, Pooch. Why not Jensen? What had he done?

A part of Jensen felt that he deserved better than this. He had tried _so hard_ to help Alvarez feel better and being ignored like this was _excruciating_. If Alvarez didn't want to be friends anymore, fine, but to ignore Jensen completely? That was just cruel. And, while Alvarez was many things, cruel was not one of them.

Or maybe Jensen didn't know Alvarez as well as he thought.

The avoidance continued even after Jensen had been declared fit for duty and they were shipped off on their sixth mission together. It was the worst assignment Jensen could ever remember being on, including that clusterfuck in Brazil.

Alvarez barely looked at him, much less spoke to him.

Or, well, he _did_ , but not like he used to. Alvarez treated Jensen like any other team member, not a friend whom he had shared practically everything with up until a couple of weeks ago. It was as if someone had swapped Alvarez out for a complete stranger — one who had no emotional connection to Jensen whatsoever, aside from the usual camaraderie found within such a tight-knit team. He wasn't rude by any means, but any attempt to move closer than friendly familiarity was calmly but firmly rebuffed or avoided.

Alvarez didn't spend time alone with Jensen, he didn't touch him, and even went as far as to place his sleeping bag next to Pooch's instead of Jensen's when they made camp.

Jensen couldn't breathe.

What had he done to ruin things between them so completely?

Without Alvarez next to him, Jensen felt like he was fumbling around in the dark. He'd gotten so used to having that steady, soothing presence to lean on that he didn't know what to do without it. He felt lost and disoriented, his chest tight with mounting panic.

Perhaps Alvarez wasn't the only one who had grown just a little too dependent.

Jensen swallowed it all back, ignoring the lump in his throat and the burn behind his eyelids. He wasn't willing to give up just yet — he still wanted to talk to Alvarez and see if he could salvage things somehow — but whatever hope he had was dwindling just a little bit more each time Alvarez looked at him with that calm, expressionless face of his.

As if they were nothing more than teammates. As if Alvarez didn't need Jensen anymore and had decided to pretend their friendship had never even happened. As if whatever they had shared over the past months was just that easy to forget.

Jensen couldn't bear it.

He wasn't sure what he had done to make Alvarez pull away like this, but he was damned well going to find out — if it so was the last thing he did.

Another two weeks passed and Alvarez became a little more sociable, but only when they were in a group — he still avoided one-on-one time with Jensen. But he started smiling again, which was good, and seemed to relax, just a little. There was no doubt that Alvarez was doing much better than he had when he had first joined the team, but Jensen couldn't help feeling like he had lost him all the same.

It soon reached the point where Jensen could only give Alvarez's smiles fake ones in return and, shortly after that, he stopped trying altogether. He didn't feel like smiling. Sure, Jensen was happy that Alvarez was doing better, but it hurt to have been pushed aside so abruptly, without as much as an explanation.

Jensen tried to talk to Alvarez — of course he did — but the man just kept dodging him, clearly content to keep Jensen at arm's length. Alvarez signaled, loud and clear, that he didn't need or want Jensen in his life anymore.

Somewhere along the way, Jensen's fear and desperation turned into anger.

He _knew_ he deserved better than this and he couldn't understand why the _hell_ Alvarez thought he had any right to behave this way. While Jensen hadn't thought it possible, Alvarez was being unreasonably heartless, without any explanation whatsoever.

Jensen didn't understand how he could have been so wrong.

On their seventh mission, Jensen was distracted and testy, snapping at everyone and, unsurprisingly, he fucked up. He missed to flag a security camera and the team was discovered before they even made it past the high fence surrounding the drug compound they were ordered to destroy.

They still managed — thanks to Alvarez's skill and Clay's quick thinking — but not without Roque getting a bullet through his calf and Pooch a concussion that would leave him out of commission for weeks to come.

In most professions, mistakes might be more or less acceptable, but not when other people's lives were at stake — his _team's_ lives. Jensen had been sloppy and, because of it, two of his teammates had gotten hurt. Unlike Alvarez, who had actually pulled through _during_ the mission and only fallen apart after it, Jensen's emotions had distracted him to the point where he lost focus.

That was inexcusable.

So he didn't argue when Clay chewed him out for his blatant carelessness, trying desperately to swallow down the taste of failure and fear that burned at the back of his throat.

Jensen was lucky that Roque and Pooch's injuries weren't more severe. They could easily have gotten killed.

He nodded stiffly when Clay ordered him to take time off and visit his sister. To some, that might seem like a reward rather than a punishment, but Jensen knew better. Clay's disappointment was a heavy weight to bear and being sent away meant that Jensen wouldn't have an opportunity to redeem himself. It meant Clay couldn't quite stand the sight of him and wasn't prepared to forgive him anytime soon.

Jensen had officially been benched.

Jensen was in the middle of packing his bags, his hands still shaking from the guilt of having put two of his teammates in the hospital, when there was a soft knock behind him. Turning around, the last person he expected to see was Alvarez.

Jensen's hands clenched around the t-shirt he was holding, his throat closing up.

He couldn't even remember the last time he and Alvarez had been alone in a room together. Five weeks ago? Six?

"What do you want?" Jensen knew he sounded hostile, his voice hoarse from barely curbed emotions.

Alvarez hesitated for a second before stepping past the threshold, concern written plainly on his face. To Jensen's surprise, anger sparked somewhere deep in his chest, hot and fierce.

What right did Alvarez have to suddenly show up and look so concerned? Like he actually still cared? He hadn't talked to Jensen in _weeks_ , ignoring him and pretending that he was just another teammate — barely more than an acquaintance. As far as Jensen was concerned, Alvarez had shown pretty clearly that he wasn't interested in being friends anymore.

"Are you okay?" Alvarez asked, the softness of his words only making Jensen angrier.

Screw Alvarez and his pretty face and all the agony his stupid behavior had caused.

"No, I'm not," Jensen snapped, shoving his crumpled t-shirt into his half-packed duffle. "So please leave me the fuck alone, okay?"

Alvarez looked completely taken aback. Jensen supposed that was understandable — he had never raised his voice in Alvarez's presence before, let alone shown any emotion even remotely related to anger or frustration. Sometimes, people seemed to forget that Jensen was just as human as everyone else — he couldn't be happy and carefree all the time.

"Jake—"

"Oh, so we're back to Jake now?" Jensen mocked, not even trying to hide the hurt that had been his constant companion the past couple of weeks. "After you've been ignoring me for how long? We're suddenly friends again?"

Alvarez blinked, looking _surprised_ , of all things, as if this was news to him.

" _¿Qué?_ " He shook his head. "We never stop—"

"Oh, so you've been avoiding me just for fun?" Jensen snarled, embarrassed to feel tears gathering. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be angry and yell and perhaps even thrown something, but not _cry_. He didn't want to show that much weakness.

Alvarez had lost the privilege to see Jensen vulnerable.

"No!" Alvarez looked horrified. "I never avoi—"

"Yes, you fucking did!" Jensen's voice wavered and he hastily turned to his duffle in a pathetic attempt to hide just how close he was to crying. "You pushed me away, without even telling me why. I've barely even seen you this past month and talked to you even less. You're never there when I try to find you and you avoid me when I want to talk to you. I don't know what I did to make you do that, but I just—"

His voice broke and a deafening silence settled over the room, broken only by Jensen's harsh breaths.

"Jake..." Alvarez had no right to sound so devastated — this was _his_ fault.

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you." Jensen could barely keep his voice steady. He shoved his clothes into his bag without looking up at Alvarez, for the first time longing to leave the base. He needed room to breathe, away from whatever train wreck his and Alvarez's friendship had become. It all just hurt too damned much.

Jensen felt rather than saw Alvarez step closer, tensing immediately.

"I'm sorry." There was no denying the regret in Alvarez's voice, but it just wasn't enough.

Despite having spent weeks longing for an apology, Jensen refused to reply. Instead, he turned to his computer table and, through a blur of unshed tears, started sorting through the mess in search of the cables he'd be bringing to Jess's house. He tried his best to ignore Alvarez, but that was easier said than done.

What did it say about them that Alvarez could ignore Jensen for _weeks_ without a problem, but Jensen could barely stand a couple of seconds? Was he really that pathetic? Was he the only one who cared what happened to them?

"Jake?"

Something inside of Jensen snapped.

He whirled to face Alvarez, trembling both from fury and panic.

"Don't call me that!" he yelled, _hating_ how vulnerable he felt. Alvarez could no doubt see it in his eyes — and not just because of the gathering tears. There was no way for Jensen to hide the grief and the fear and the _agony_. "You shoved me aside for _weeks_! You don't get to call me that, not after what you did!"

Alvarez looked like he was breaking — as if he couldn't _breathe_ , as if he was so fragile he might shatter at any moment. And that wasn't _fair_ because Jensen was the one who had been hurt. _He_ was the one who should be upset, not Alvarez, and Jensen shouldn't have to feel guilty for putting that look on Alvarez's face.

" _Perdóname_." Alvarez apology was so soft Jensen barely even heard it over the furious beats of his own heart. "I—" Alvarez swallowed, looking more out of balance than Jensen could remember, and that was saying something. His eyes were wide and glassy, his breaths sharp and almost panicked. "I never meant to—"

"Oh, so you did it by _accident_?" A rebellious tear slipped free and Jensen angrily wiped it away.

Alvarez's expression crumpled into something desperate and helpless that Jensen had never seen before, not on anyone. It was heartbreaking and made it difficult to breathe and, at least for a second, Jensen hated Alvarez for making him feel this way. Every one of Jensen's instincts told him to just let it all drop — to swallow down the pain and pretend like nothing was wrong. To do whatever necessary to stop Alvarez from hurting, even if it would be agonizing for Jensen himself.

And perhaps he would have, had this been a couple of weeks ago, but now he was far too high-strung and stretched far too thin to give up that tiny, cracked sliver of himself.

"No, I just..." Alvarez looked like he wanted to reach out and only barely managed to stop himself from doing so. "I didn't mean it. I was..."

Words had always been difficult for Alvarez, Jensen knew that — he could see him struggling — but he was far too upset to help him along or offer any pardon. If Alvarez wanted Jensen to forgive him, he better explain _why_. Jensen wouldn't be offering any forgiveness if he didn't get answers first.

Alvarez took a deep breath and met Jensen's gaze, his voice wavering in a way that made Jensen's heart clench, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

"I wanted to stand on my own. I wanted... I _needed_ to know I can. But I did it wrong." He shook his head. "I didn't mean to push you away. Not like that."

Jensen had never heard Alvarez say so much all at once before. It was a little unsettling.

"I'm _so_ sorry." Alvarez took a tentative step closer, but clearly knew better than to do more than that. "I should have said something."

Jensen rubbed a hand over his eyes, reluctantly feeling some of the tension drain out of him. He didn't want to stop being angry just yet — Alvarez wasn't forgiven — but it was just so damned _exhausting_ to be so mad. Jensen simply wasn't meant to feel such negative emotions for long periods at a time. And, as shitty as Alvarez's explanation was, it also made a certain amount of sense.

Alvarez might be clever and an all-around amazing human being, but his communication skills were pretty lacking. Or maybe he had assumed that Jensen would know what he was up to even without an explanation. Either way, this whole mess being a mistake sounded quite plausible given what Jensen knew about Alvarez. The man didn't seem capable of the kind of cruelty he had put Jensen through — not intentionally, at least.

"Yeah, you fucking should have." Jensen lowered his hand, giving Alvarez a tired glare. "What the fuck, man? _Of course_ I understand if you want to stand on your own two feet, but why didn't you just _tell me_? How was I supposed to know that's what you were up to?" He spread his arms wide. "All I know is that, all of a sudden, you shoved me away and acted as if we weren't friends anymore. I even started fearing you'd grown to hate me."

Again, Alvarez looked horrified, as if the very thought was inconceivable.

"Never," he replied, voice firmer now. "I could never hate you."

"Well, I didn't know that, did I?" Jensen shot back. "Because you never fucking told me! And— just what the _fuck_ , Alvarez? You shut me out completely! I get wanting to regain your independence, but you wouldn't even talk to me!"

Alvarez had the decency to look both guilty and shameful, as well he should. " _Perdóname_."

"Yeah, you've said that already." Perhaps Jensen was being petty, but he wasn't in the mood to accept Alvarez's apology just yet. He'd been suffering for _weeks_ and, sure, perhaps Alvarez was just clumsy, but it had hurt _so much_ to believe that he'd been abandoned without as much as a goodbye. Jensen couldn't just wave that away.

Right at this moment, Jensen had no idea how to fix this shit between them.

Alvarez didn't seem to know what to do, either. During all the time they had known each other, they had never actually fought. Had disagreements, sure, and Jensen had tested Alvarez's patience more than once, but nothing like this.

Another awkward silence hung over the room and Jensen knew it was up to him to break it.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, not at all keen to be the reasonable one. He could still feel the sting of tears, his chest aching from barely suppressed emotions, but he knew he couldn't just leave things like this. They had to solve this somehow, but both of them were far too raw and distressed to do so right now.

"Look," Jensen began, catching Alvarez's gaze, "I'm happy for you. I truly am. You've been doing so much better lately, with and without me, and that's great. I'm so proud of you." He managed a frail smile, not surprised to feel it tremble. "Don't ever doubt that I only ever want what's best for you. But I—" Jensen swallowed, his throat tightening. "I think we both need a break. From each other."

Jensen didn't even know who he was trying to punish anymore — the sudden flare of pain he saw in Alvarez's gaze was perfectly mirrored in his own heart.

"Not forever, obviously," he added, perhaps a little too quickly. "But I'll be going to my sister's for two weeks and... yeah. I think that'll be good for us. Give us some time to think." He forced himself to go on. "Get some perspective, you know? So we know what we... well, what we want from all of this."

It took several long seconds before Alvarez nodded — all while looking like the last thing he wanted was to agree.

"And," Jensen continued, "when I get back, we'll talk?"

This time, Alvarez's nod came quicker — more determined. His eyes were still sad, though. " _Sí_. We will talk."

Jensen licked his lips, gaze straying back to his duffle. "Good. Then that's settled."

"Jensen?"

Despite wanting to be petulant and refuse, Jensen looked up. He had a hard time denying Alvarez anything, to tell the truth, and even more so when he could hear the hint of desperation in Alvarez's voice.

Just looking at him — seeing so much pain and misery in Alvarez's dark eyes — made Jensen's entire being scream in protest. This was the man he loved — someone he wanted to protect and shelter from all harm for however long he was allowed and able. Seeing him suffer, be it from his own mistakes, was heartbreaking. Jensen wanted nothing more than to pull Alvarez into his arms and tell him that everything would be okay.

Except Jensen knew he couldn't do that — he couldn't lie about something like this.

The words Alvarez spoke next were the same as Jensen had heard three times already, but they felt more real this time, perhaps because he was actually prepared to listen.

"I'm sorry." There was nothing but genuine regret and honesty in Alvarez's voice, but, then again, Jensen had never really doubted that. It was his own stubbornness that made him refuse the apology.

Jensen let out a slow breath, smiling faintly. "I know. And, when I get back, maybe I'll accept it too."

That might not be what Alvarez wanted to hear, but, in that case, he didn't show it. He merely nodded, accepting Jensen's terms without argument.

"Say hi to Beth," Alvarez said instead, tone soft. "And your sister."

Jensen's heart clenched, but he refused to be swayed.

"I will," he promised. "You be good while I'm gone."

That lured a smile out of Alvarez, but it was frail and held more sadness than a smile should. As was often the case, he seemed less inclined to reply with words.

"Well, I should get back to packing and I'm sure you have important things to do." Jensen turned back to his duffle, not wanting to actually say goodbye if he could help it — that would feel too real. Too final.

There was a brief silence, then Alvarez spoke again.

"When you get back," was all he said.

Jensen forced himself to breathe around the lump in his throat, nodding before glancing up at Alvarez yet again. "When I get back, yeah."

With that, Alvarez seemed satisfied. He nodded once more — still smiling that painfully sorrowful smile — before leaving Jensen to his packing. A part of Jensen wanted to call him back, desperate to fix everything as soon as possible, but he hadn't been lying when he said that they both needed time. They had been much too wrapped up in each other lately, one way or another, and there was so much to straighten out.

It would be worth it, though, Jensen knew that for a fact, no matter how much time and effort it might take.

Alvarez would always be worth it.

It took Jess all of five minutes to figure out that something was wrong with Jensen, but she was wise enough to wait until Beth had gone to bed before she asked about it. To Jensen's horror, his reaction was a hitching breath, promptly followed by tears. He wasn't even sure why — contrary to popular belief, he didn't cry all that often. But perhaps the situation had finally caught up with him — all the tension, hurt, and exhaustion.

Suddenly, without really knowing why, he just felt so _tired_.

Jess held him as he cried, then gently pried the whole story out of him, including Jensen's inconvenient feelings for Alvarez — which she, fortunately, did not comment on. She stayed remarkably objective, in fact, but didn't seem as surprised by Jensen's breakdown as he was.

"Jake, sweetheart," she said, stroking his hair, "your loyalty will be the death of you."

Jensen straightened and opened his mouth to protest, but Jess ignored him and just kept talking.

"I love you for it, don't get me wrong, but you're running yourself ragged. You can't carry his troubles on top of your own." She smiled, but there was an edge of reprimand to it. "You can't fix him — he has to do that himself."

"I know that." Jensen might _like to_ , but he knew it wasn't possible.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Be there for him, but don't put everything that you are into making him feel better." Her blue, blue gaze was fond, albeit with an underlying sadness that always made Jensen's heart ache. "Remember to be selfish sometimes, Jake. Don't always put him first."

"But that's what he needs," Jensen protested. "Surely that's more important than—"

"No, Jake," she interrupted, her gaze determined, "it's not. Maybe it was necessary at the beginning, but not anymore. He can handle himself — you don't have to give him everything that you are. Don't burn yourself out."

Jensen looked down at his hands, scratching an imaginary spot on his left thumbnail. "I just want to help," he mumbled dejectedly.

There was a soft sigh from Jess as she let her fingers wander into his hair again. Jensen had always found that particularly soothing, whatever lingering tension he held bleeding out of him in a matter of seconds.

"Of course you do, but you can't help him if you don't take care of yourself," Jess replied. "I think both of you need to take a step back and figure out where you stand."

Jensen smiled half-heartedly. "That's supposedly what I'm doing right now." He cleared his throat, trying to push down the surge of nerves. "And then we'll talk when I get back."

"That sounds like a good idea." Jess's nails scratched against Jensen's scalp and he couldn't help leaning closer, his head settling on her shoulder. Never mind that he was much bigger than her and great deal heavier. Just for a little while, he wanted to be the one being pampered and taken care of.

Perhaps Jess had a point.

Most of Jensen's life the past couple of months had been devoted to Alvarez, and that just wasn't healthy, no matter how good his intentions were. To be fair, it hadn't all been one-sided. Alvarez had offered a lot of support in return — scared off Jensen's bullies, bought him candy, and soothed his nightmares — but there had been a definite slant in Alvarez's favor, Jensen had to admit that. He would also argue that it had been necessary, but, again, Jess had a point.

It might not be anymore.

Alvarez was doing much better and he would soon reach a stage where he didn't need the same amount of support — he might already have done so. Jensen could let go. He could let Alvarez deal with some of his issues without Jensen's hovering presence. Jensen could put his own needs first again.

The fact that the thought felt so foreign to him was a little frightening.

When had Jensen forgotten how to take care of himself?

He sighed, turning his head so that he could press his nose against Jess's soft, soft skin. She always smelled so nice, like a mix of flowers, safety, and _home_.

"I'll try," he mumbled. He couldn't make any promises aside from that. "I think he'll agree with you."

Alvarez was much too kind not to. If he had accidentally pushed Jensen away while trying to prove that he could take care of himself, a part of his motivation had no doubt been to be less of a hindrance to Jensen — to give him more time for himself. Pride, too, if Jensen knew Alvarez, but that had probably been secondary.

"Good," Jess replied with finality. Jensen still wondered what she thought of Alvarez in general — and the fact that she had just found out that her little brother was in love with the man — but she was probably saving that conversation for another day. After all, she had two whole weeks to interrogate him about it.

For now, she continued to comb her fingers through Jensen's hair and, unsurprisingly, it didn't take long until he was dozing on her shoulder, relaxed and content for the first time in weeks.

While being sent to his sister was no doubt meant as a punishment, Jensen still managed to enjoy his time there. He missed the team, sure, but being back amongst civilians always helped put things in perspective for him.

He found it easier to breathe.

To his surprise, Jess didn't ask about Jensen's not-so-platonic feelings for his teammate. Perhaps she wanted to wait and see how things played out between him and Alvarez first, or maybe she just felt that Jensen had already suffered enough, without her interference.

Either way, Jensen got a lot of time to think about him and Alvarez. A part of him would have wanted to talk things over with Jess one more time — she had always been better at people than he was — but he'd already told her more than he should have. Alvarez was a very private person and probably wouldn't like it if he ever found out that Jensen had shared their problems with his sister. Not to mention that Jess didn't know Alvarez like Jensen did and couldn't be expected to understand him well enough to offer advice.

In the end, the conclusion Jensen reached was pretty much what he had expected.

He wanted to remain friends with Alvarez — more if possible, though Jensen wasn't foolish enough to assume that would ever happen. That meant that they had to change the way they behaved with each other. They had to make sure that they knew where they stood when Alvarez no longer needed Jensen's support. They had to find a balance and, in all likelihood, rebuild at least parts of their relationship to better suit the current situation.

If they actually wanted their friendship to survive Alvarez's recovery, they had to become equals.

Jensen would still put Alvarez first if it was to save his life during a mission, but, aside from those instances, Jensen had to relearn how to prioritize. He couldn't keep going out of his way to keep Alvarez happy at his own expense, and he sincerely doubted that Alvarez wanted him to.

As terrifying as the realization was, Jensen knew that things had to change.

Hopefully, they would still remain close — Jensen didn't want to even _consider_ any other option — but things couldn't go on as they were. They had to make changes.

Even without having talked, Jensen was pretty sure that Alvarez would feel the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, without a doubt, the most emotionally draining chapter to write. I'm not sure if I've ever written Jensen this upset with Cougar. Like, actually _angry_ at Cougar. I guess it just doesn't happen all that often?
> 
> But yeah. Just one more chapter and the epilogue to go!


	5. The Resolution

 

* * *

 

By the time Jensen's two-week leave was over, he was much calmer. He said goodbye to Jess and Beth, promising to visit again as soon as possible and write many letters in the meantime. Leaving his family was always difficult, but this time he was a little distracted by what awaited him once he got back to base. The approaching talk with Alvarez left Jensen feeling both nervous and excited.

Jess clearly didn't need to ask why he was so distracted, giving him a fond shake of her head before shooing him toward the bus.

Jensen was restless and fidgety the whole way back to base and, even once he got there, his nerves just wouldn't settle. He wasn't worried — not really — but this whole thing had him on edge. He didn't _think_ Alvarez would try to push him away again, knowingly or otherwise, but there was no telling what might have happened during the two weeks Jensen had been gone. What kind of conclusions Alvarez had reached when he really thought about their situation.

And when were they supposed to have their talk? Right away? Tomorrow? Where should they have it? At Jensen's? Or in Alvarez's room? Or somewhere neutral?

It annoyed Jensen that something so simple could make him so keyed up.

He was happy to see the team again, though. There was a hint of lingering reproach in Clay's gaze, telling Jensen he still had to prove that he wouldn't fuck up again, but there were also many smiles and friendly back-slaps to be had. Roque was hobbling around, clearly ignoring that he'd been shot just two weeks ago and should be taking it easy, while Pooch looked more or less like normal. Then again, concussions didn't always show on the outside.

Jensen felt a clench of guilt knowing it was all his fault, not at all helped by Pooch's kind, knowing smile and the firm squeeze he gave Jensen's shoulder. No words were exchanged, but Jensen knew that Pooch and Roque had forgiven him already — that's what they always did.

Now he just had to forgive himself, however long that would take.

Jensen headed up to his room to unpack, though he _was_ tempted to just dump it all on his bed and head out in search of Alvarez. Then again, unpacking his duffle would give him a couple of more minutes to prepare what he wanted to say. He'd done that on the bus already — twisted and turned the possibilities and what might happen when he and Alvarez talked — but a little more wouldn't hurt.

Not that he expected to find any answers. It was impossible to predict exactly what Alvarez would say — if anything at all — but it helped ease Jensen's anxiety to know he was at least well-prepared. He _really_ didn't want to fuck this up.

Just as Jensen was pulling out the last of his dirty laundry from his bag, there was a knock. He looked up and, unsurprisingly, felt his heart skip a beat.

Alvarez was standing in the doorway, a warm — if slightly hesitant — smile on his lips.

Jensen hadn't been prepared to see Alvarez so soon and every thought — every carefully laid plan and his painstakingly crafted words — fled at the sight of him. Nothing else seemed to matter but that smile and the careful, questioning tilt of Alvarez's head.

Alvarez looked _good_.

Not that that was anything out of the ordinary. Alvarez was always handsome, full of that casual, confident grace and heartfelt sincerity of his. Still, something felt different. When Jensen looked at him, he felt not the quiet flutter of attraction but something much, much stronger. Jensen had been in love with the man for months, sure, but had always pushed that aside, knowing it was a bad time. Alvarez had to heal first. Alvarez had to find his stability first.

Now, faced with the possibility that Alvarez _had_ , Jensen didn't know what to do. The rush of _what if_ 's was suddenly deafening, yearning settling like a hot, molten knot in Jensen's gut.

Perhaps it was because he'd had time to think so much these past two weeks, getting used to the thought of seeing Alvarez as something more than a teammate in need. Perhaps that had intentionally pushed Alvarez out of the 'off limits' category and straight into 'would date if I could.'

Jensen wanted him so badly it _hurt_.

Nothing had actually changed, though. Just because Jensen was beginning to let go of seeing Alvarez as someone who depended on him for his mental health — and, consequently, not someone Jensen could pursue romantically with a clear conscience — didn't mean that Alvarez was in any way interested. Jensen would do well to remember that.

After what felt like a couple of embarrassingly long seconds, Jensen finally found his voice.

"Alvarez. Hi." Jensen wanted to smack himself for sounding so breathless — reverent, even — and there was no stopping the stupid, dorky smile that spread on his lips. It was good to see Alvarez again, especially now that Jensen had had time to calm down.

There was still a lingering pinch of hurt, sure, because being ignored was never easy, but Jensen was definitely willing to put that behind them. Alvarez had said that he was sorry and Jensen believed him, simple as that.

The hesitation seemed to bleed out of Alvarez, but he still didn't move. "Welcome back." His words were warm, gentle, and oh-so-tender that Jensen felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Thanks." Jensen swallowed, not sure if he was imagining the thick tension in the air. Breathing was a little difficult, his heart racing and anticipation thrumming through him like a live current — in desperate need of an outlet.

It felt as if they were having some kind of standoff, neither of them knowing quite what to do and not wanting to be the first to move, afraid to ruin the frail peace between them. They had parted on rather tense terms, after all, and it was understandable if they didn't know exactly how to behave now that they saw each other again.

They had a lot they needed to sort out and it was difficult to know where to begin.

But, at that very moment, Jensen realized that he didn't give a shit. They had to talk, sure, but he didn't care for the uncertainty and tension that suddenly lay between them. This was his friend — probably his _best_ friend, if Alvarez would allow Jensen to call him that — and standing there like two strangers was just unacceptable. There shouldn't be this kind of distance between them.

So, without further ado, Jensen dropped his laundry, turned to face Alvarez, and opened his arms in invitation.

In three quick strides, without even a _hint_ of hesitation, Alvarez crossed the room and slid into Jensen's embrace. His arms wrapped around Jensen's waist, squeezing just a little tighter than was probably recommended, and didn't even seem to care that his hat fell off when he tucked his face against Jensen's neck.

It was as if Alvarez had been waiting for a hug ever since he arrived at Jensen's doorstep and couldn't bear to hold off even a second longer — as if doing so would cause him physical pain. Alvarez's urgency — the complete lack of doubt or wariness — and the obvious joy and relief in his posture, was enough to cause Jensen's heart to skip another beat. It was gratifying to know that Jensen wasn't the only one who had been looking forward to this.

He swallowed, throat tight, and took a deep breath of Alvarez's scent.

" _Fuck_ , I missed you," Jensen croaked, not only referring to the two weeks he'd been away visiting his family. He and Alvarez had been separated for much longer than that, be it without meaning to, and it felt amazing to have him in his arms again. It might not be in the capacity that Jensen would prefer, but, fuck it, he'd take whatever he could get at this point.

Being Alvarez's best friend was still a privilege that Jensen would never take for granted.

Alvarez grip tightened for a brief second and his softly mumbled reply was almost lost against Jensen's skin. "Me too. _Perdóname_."

Jensen smiled, gently bumping his cheek against Alvarez's head. "I know. And I forgive you." Jensen wasn't one who carried grudges to begin with and doing so now would only hurt them both. He was tired of fighting — hugging was much better. "I can't stay mad at you."

Without even looking at him, Jensen could tell that Alvarez disapproved, probably unhappy to be let off so easy. To prevent Alvarez from pulling away — seeing as Jensen was very much enjoying their current position — he kept talking.

"You said you didn't mean it and I believe you."

"I made you cry." The words were hard, full of self-reproach and regret.

Had he not been afraid to dislodge Alvarez, Jensen might have shrugged.

"Yeah, it happens," he replied. "But I forgive you for that too."

"You shouldn't."

Jensen rolled his eyes, knowing Alvarez wouldn't be able to see it anyway. As much as he loved Alvarez — and _boy_ , did he ever — the man was, perhaps, just a little bit of a martyr sometimes.

"Let's not turn this into a pity party, okay?" Without really thinking, Jensen raised his hand and gently stroked Alvarez's hair. "You said you were sorry, right? Did you lie?"

Alvarez stood silent for another couple of beats before he eventually let out a tired sigh. "No," he replied, even if it sounded like it pained him to have to admit defeat.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Jensen reassured, pressing a kiss to the side of Alvarez's head. _Fuck_ , his hair smelled nice. "Because I believe you and forgive you."

Immediately, Alvarez stiffened in his arms, and it took Jensen a second to realize it wasn't because of his words but rather the unexpected kiss.

_Shit._

Alvarez pulled back, just enough to catch Jensen's gaze, and Jensen's stomach dropped when he saw the guarded look in his eyes. Jensen shouldn't have done that. Now Alvarez was going to feel uncomfortable and distance himself for real and never talk to Jensen again. _Fuck_.

In his panic, Jensen fumbled for another subject — anything to try and play it off like that kiss wasn't a big deal.

"By the way, how did you get here so fast? I only just got back."

It was difficult to say who let go first, but Alvarez was suddenly at arm's length and Jensen's heart was beating painfully hard in his chest.

He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up _so bad_.

If he was lucky, he might be able to laugh it away. The kiss had been pretty affectionate, sure, but Jensen was known for being exceedingly tactile — he could just blame it on that. People kissed other people on the head all the time, right? It could totally be platonic, even if Jensen might not have meant it as such when he did it.

"Pooch," Alvarez replied, a frown growing on his face. That expression of his did not bode well _at all_. "He texted."

"Oh. Nice." Jensen couldn't think of anything else to say, much too busy trying to remember how to breathe. They had gone from perfect to awkward in two seconds flat, all because Jensen couldn't keep his fucking emotions in check.

They still weren't under control, truth be told. He wanted so desperately to kiss Alvarez and was only barely able to hold back the impulse.

Alvarez opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, "We should talk."

Oh no.

Jensen nodded despite the cold dread spreading through him. "Yeah, of course."

They had said they would, after all, but Jensen was no longer looking forward to it. He had a feeling he'd changed the content of said talk with that careless kiss of his, no matter how innocent. The look on Alvarez's face — the way he subtly avoided eye contact and the tense wariness in his posture — did _not_ leave Jensen with much hope.

He'd fucked up.

"Okay." Jensen swallowed, pulling restlessly at the hem of his t-shirt. "Uh, should I start or do you—"

"Me."

Jensen blinked at the determination in Alvarez's voice, feeling his chest clench.

Usually, Alvarez never wanted to talk and the fact that he did so now was no consolation whatsoever. Whatever he wanted to say could not be good — not if it made him look that serious.

Jensen clamped down on his urge to run, knowing he still had to listen — he had to give Alvarez that much.

Perhaps, if Jensen was lucky, Alvarez would at least stay on the team. It was okay if he didn't want to be friends anymore — Jensen had always suspected that he'd push Alvarez away if he ever crossed the line between friendship and something more — but he didn't have to leave completely.

Maybe, if Jensen just made sure to be less invasive, Alvarez wouldn't—

"I love you."

Jensen's entire world ground to a halt.

Seconds passed but he couldn't quite make sense of the words, his mind stalling.

"I..." He stared at Alvarez in incomprehension. "I'm sorry, what?"

Alvarez let out a breath, his shoulders lowering — as if a great weight had finally been lifted. When he looked up, there was a resigned, heartbreaking smile on his lips.

"I love you," he repeated with a shrug, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world and he'd accepted it without much effort or argument.

Jensen's heart was racing almost as fast as his thoughts were spinning.

It had to be platonic. Alvarez had to mean that he loved Jensen as a friend. But, at the very back of Jensen's mind, there was a part of him that said he was being stupid.

There was only one way Alvarez could mean something like that, especially coupled with that look on his face.

"I won't pretend anymore," Alvarez said. His gaze was full of conviction as he looked at Jensen and the soft, aching smile remained. "I won't deny what I want."

This was taking a turn Jensen hadn't expected and he still wasn't entirely sure if he was fully registering what was happening. He had to be dreaming.

"And that is?" he asked.

Alvarez reply came quickly and without hesitation.

"You." It wasn't a demand but rather a statement — one Alvarez clearly wasn't indecisive about at all. "As more than a friend."

Even if he should have suspected it by then, Jensen's breath still caught.

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say — he was still reeling from everything Alvarez had told him.

Jensen hadn't seen this coming _at all_. Since when did Alvarez love him? Jensen hadn't seen any signs. Then again, he'd been so focused on not allowing his own feelings to interfere with their relationship that it made sense that he wouldn't notice Alvarez's, either.

"How long?" Jensen wasn't sure why he even bothered to ask. In the end, it didn't matter all that much, but a part of him was curious — perhaps even a little worried. He didn't want Alvarez to confuse gratefulness with love — that Jensen's support during his recovery was the only reason for his feelings now. "When did you realize?"

Alvarez looked at Jensen, clearly sensing that the question was important even if it was blurted out without much thought.

"A couple of weeks ago." He swallowed. "After you..."

"Got captured," Jensen finished, to which Alvarez nodded.

That was acceptable, surely? Alvarez had been feeling much better by then and whatever he was feeling probably wasn't fuelled by desperation or misplaced obligation. Jensen didn't want that. Sure, whatever they felt for each other was inevitably influenced by the months Jensen had spent trying to help Alvarez recover, but it shouldn't be _because_ of that.

It was only when Alvarez began to look distinctly uncomfortable that Jensen realized that he'd spent the last minute asking stupid questions instead of replying to the confession. That just wouldn't do.

"Me too."

A small wrinkle of confusion appeared between Alvarez's brows and Jensen figured he should probably elaborate.

"I mean, I didn't realize it then — I did so much earlier, actually — but, uh, me too." He swallowed, feeling unreasonably nervous considering that Alvarez had already said he loved him and _holy shit_ this was really happening. "I want that too. With you."

Alvarez's frown turned into a smile, be it a small, careful one. "I hoped so."

Jensen grinned, elation beginning to overpower his surprise. "This wasn't at all what I expected out of our talk."

That earned him a laugh, short and relieved. "I know," Alvarez replied, his smile growing stronger.

"But I guess we rarely do things the way we should." Jensen took a tentative step closer, gratified when Alvarez did the same. They were practically touching, Jensen's fingers itching with a need to reach out and pull Alvarez to him. Kissing him might still be too bold — Jensen had a feeling they would still need to take things slow — but touching should be fine, right?

Deciding to be daring, Jensen raised his hand to gently brush his thumb against Alvarez's cheek. Alvarez immediately leaned into the touch, his eyes closing in what could very well be bliss.

"There's still a lot we should talk about." Jensen didn't want to say it, but someone had to. Everything wasn't quite sorted out yet and they couldn't forget that, even if it might be a mood-killer.

Alvarez took it in a stride, however, looking up at Jensen before nodding. "We do." He hooked a finger through Jensen's belt loop, pulling him closer with a gentle tug. His dark eyes were brimming with affection, his smile so soft it made Jensen want to hold his breath. "Later."

Jensen exhaled, allowing himself to relax. He could practically feel the warmth of Alvarez's skin and, without thinking, Jensen let his hand wander back into Alvarez's hair. It was just so soft and wonderful and how was he expected to resist now that he was allowed to touch?

"Yeah," he agreed, "we can do that later."

For now, he just wanted to bask in the happiness blooming within him and not worry about whatever problems they still had to address.

All of that could wait until tomorrow.

Alvarez clearly agreed.

Conveniently enough, the team wasn't given any new missions what with Roque and Pooch being injured, giving Jensen and Alvarez ample time to work through their lingering issues.

That said, holding a conversation with Alvarez was always a little tricky considering the man's habit of speaking with as few words as possible, but they made do. Mostly, Alvarez seemed to want to keep apologizing, to the point where Jensen had to make him promise to stop unless he wanted Jensen to lose his patience entirely. There really was no need for more apologies.

Aside from that, Alvarez made it clear that he wanted things to stop being only about him. He wanted to know Jensen's needs and wants as well, rather than both of them putting Alvarez first. Apparently, this was what Alvarez had intended to say during their talk when Jensen first got back, but had instead decided that confessing his feelings was more time efficient.

Jensen couldn't argue with that, he supposed.

In return, Jensen made it clear that Alvarez should never feel like he was a burden to the team. They all had their good and bad days and no one was ever going to hold that against him. It showed that Alvarez was slow to accept this — Jensen hadn't expected anything less, to tell the truth — but he eventually nodded in reluctant agreement.

Everything wasn't fixed — far from it — but it felt like they had a firm foundation to stand on. Alvarez still had some lingering ghosts to deal with and Jensen hadn't _quite_ gotten used to not being excessively accommodating and overprotective, but they could work on that.

They were, as Jensen had predicted, taking things slow, but he knew that was necessary. They really didn't need any more complications or surprises and, to be honest, a calmer pace was a lot more soothing to his hurt feelings. Knowing that they weren't rushing into this made Jensen more inclined to believe it was real.

So, at least when it came to this, Jensen had patience.

He could wait.

"Jensen, you need to clear out the guest room."

Since he was in the middle of figuring out a particularly stubborn line of code, it took a couple of seconds for Jensen to even register that Clay was talking to him.

"What? Why?" he asked, disoriented. He looked up at his CO, blinking owlishly, hands still poised over his keys. "That's where I keep my backup computers."

Clay rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest and what could actually be a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. That could either be _really_ good or _really_ bad.

"We need the space," Clay replied.

Jensen narrowed his eyes. "What for?"

His suspicious question earned him an exasperated sigh, followed by a shake of Clay's head. "We've got a new teammate, remember?"

Oh.

_Oh._

Elation was too small a word to describe the emotion suddenly filling Jensen's chest. He quickly saved his progress and closed the lid of his laptop.

"Consider it done, Colonel."

Now Clay was _definitely_ smiling. "I thought you'd say that."

Jensen was _dying_ to kiss Alvarez.

Two weeks had passed since Jensen had returned to base and they were slowly but surely getting back on firmer ground, but still no kiss. He wasn't sure if it was too early or if they simply didn't know how to break the stalemate — even Jensen could admit that he hadn't found a moment he thought appropriate.

Alvarez had moved into the house with the rest of them — that had only taken a little over an hour, as a matter of fact, since he had so few things — but despite more access, there was still little opportunity. The rest of the team was often there and, even when they weren't, it just didn't feel quite right.

Jensen knew it was stupid to fret, but he couldn't help it.

Maybe this had been a bad idea? If they couldn't even relax enough to kiss, how were they supposed to be in a relationship? Perhaps they were just meant to be friends?

Jensen immediately discarded that last one because there were no doubts in his mind that he wanted this. And, no matter how quiet he might be, there was no mistaking the fire and devotion in Alvarez's eyes whenever he looked at Jensen. The team had probably noticed too, but Jensen knew they wouldn't tell — they were too much like a family for that.

Not that there was much to tell at the moment, to Jensen's great dismay.

In the end, he probably shouldn't have been surprised that Alvarez took matters into his own hands. While he had been careful and reserved when they first met each other, Alvarez had come far since then, showing hints of a boldness that was quite intoxicating.

Jensen didn't even see it coming.

He was parked on the couch with his laptop, totally engrossed in the SpongeBob episode he was watching, when Alvarez sat down next to him. All within the realms of normal.

"Hey, Jake?"

Whenever they were alone, Alvarez preferred to call him Jake. Jensen had never really asked why, mostly because he found it adorable and didn't want to give Alvarez a reason to stop.

"Hm?" he replied, only half listening.

There was a sound that could have been an aborted laugh or a sigh, perhaps a bit of both, before Alvarez — quite rudely, Jensen might add — reached across and paused the episode.

"Hey!" Jensen looked up. "I was watching that."

Alvarez just smiled and, before giving Jensen's thoughts time to start spinning — as they so often did as soon as he wasn't focused on something — he leaned in and pressed a kiss against Jensen's lips. It was chaste and short but sent a sizzle down Jensen's spine all the same, leaving him all warm and tingly.

When Alvarez pulled back, Jensen blinked stupidly at him, too surprised to do much else. Alvarez, on his part, smiled and raised his hand, gently cupping Jensen's cheek.

" _Te amo_ ," he said, soft and intimate and heartfelt enough to make Jensen's gut clench.

How did Alvarez _do_ that? And how on earth did he expect Jensen to survive him doing it?

Jensen swallowed, emotions rising in his throat. "I love you too," he whispered a little helplessly, not able to look away from Alvarez's warm, fond gaze.

Jensen wasn't sure why he had ever doubted that Alvarez knew how to break the status quo and make them kiss — the man was grace and sensuality personified. Not to mention that he had an almost uncanny ability to catch Jensen off guard, but in the best way possible. Alvarez always seemed to know what Jensen needed, just like Jensen had spent months learning what Alvarez needed.

They made a pretty good pair, if Jensen did say so himself.

Alvarez nodded towards Jensen's laptop, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Go ahead."

As if Jensen could possibly go back to watching cartoons after he had just gotten the kiss he had been longing for the past two weeks?

"You know what?" Jensen quickly shut his laptop and put it on the coffee table. "On second thought, there's something else I'd rather be doing."

Jensen was reaching out as soon as his hands were free and Alvarez laughed, bright and carefree. With a firm grip on Alvarez's scarf, Jensen pulled him closer and kissed that beautiful, glorious smile of his.

The second kiss was even better and Jensen felt his heart soar from joy. He could definitely get used to this. Kissing Alvarez was thrilling, causing bright sparks of pleasure that settled in the pit of Jensen's stomach, warm and comfortable. It wasn't just the physical attraction — though there was a fair share of that — but the knowledge that this was a person who knew Jensen better than most. When Alvarez said that he loved him, he truly meant that.

He loved Jensen exactly the way he was.

With that in mind, Jensen felt he couldn't be blamed for just how enthusiastic he was being. Especially when Alvarez's hands slid through the short hairs at Jensen's nape, causing a soft moan and a helpless shiver. The kiss deepened, slow and toe-curling, and Jensen realized that he never, ever wanted to let go.

Luckily enough for him, it seemed he didn't have to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand there you have it! Well, at least the majority of it. There's still a short epilogue to go, which you will be getting tomorrow! See you then!


	6. Epilogue

 

* * *

 

Jensen ducked behind a conveniently placed Jeep, bullets ricocheting off the scuffed metal. Despite the hail of gunfire — or maybe because of it — he couldn't hold back a slightly giddy laugh.

"Who knew Guatemalan drug lords could get so upset when you set fire to their operation?" he said over the comms, gratified to hear a snorting laugh he knew belonged to Alvarez.

"Focus, Jensen," Clay admonished, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of amusement in his voice.

"I _am_ focused, Colonel," Jensen replied, mostly just to be annoying. He shifted his weight to lean more heavily against the Jeep, stabilizing his aim as he fired at the group of guards trying to sneak up behind him. He smoothly picked off two of them, but the third crumpled to the ground before Jensen could pull the trigger. Had he not seen the guard's head do a sharp jerk before he collapsed, Jensen might actually have been pretty perplexed.

He huffed. "How about you get your own baddies, Alvarez?"

There was no reply but Jensen could practically _feel_ Alvarez's smugness, even over the comms. Unfortunately, he got distracted by more bullets before he had time to complain some more — for which Clay was probably grateful. Pooch offered some much-appreciated assistance, allowing Jensen to rush out and hide behind a nearby wall instead of the now slightly perforated Jeep.

After over a year of working together, the Losers were a seamless unit, making standard missions like these more or less a walk in the park. The occasional mishap still happened, sure, but they had gotten used to improvising when needed and had yet to fail a mission. There were few things that could bring them out of balance — as a group or individuals — so Jensen had to admit that he was unprepared to suddenly be faced with one of them.

The mission was almost over, the facility burning and the team busy picking off stragglers, when Roque said it. Jensen wasn't sure if Roque did it intentionally or if it was a pure accident, but it brought both him and Alvarez up short for a second.

"The east entrance. Take him out, Cougar."

The words in themselves were nothing out of the ordinary — they often gave Alvarez pointers to help him locate targets — but Jensen felt a definite chill run down his spine at the nickname.

Everyone knew that was what Alvarez had been called by his previous team — the one that had died in front of him — and none of the Losers had ever used it before. The other soldiers on base still did, out of respect and fear more than anything, but it had been an unspoken taboo within the team for as long as Alvarez had been with them.

Alvarez didn't reply but that, too, wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He was always quiet over the comms, but Jensen couldn't help worrying that this wasn't one of his usual silences.

Now was not the time to ask, however. Jensen had learned the hard way that they needed to stay focused during missions and any personal matters — even things like these — had to be saved until after the bullets had stopped flying.

His worry never quite settled, however, and by the time the team was pulling out, heading to the pickup point, Jensen was practically vibrating with tension.

He had enough sense to wait until they had left the burning base way behind before he subtly brushed his hand against Alvarez's, knowing it would be enough to catch his attention. As expected, Alvarez looked up, his gaze unreadable. Jensen had a hard time determining if that was good or bad — sometimes Alvarez just didn't like showcasing his emotions, but other times he just flat out hid them rather than dealing with them.

"You okay?" Jensen asked, voice low, and slowed his steps, hoping to give them at least a semblance of privacy. That wasn't anything unusual — the team was used to Jensen and Alvarez going off on their own and their habit of always standing unnecessarily close to each other.

Alvarez matched Jensen's pace, his gaze flicking to the trees and bushes around them. It took several seconds before he replied, which gave Jensen enough time to fear the worst.

"I think so."

Jensen swallowed. "You sure?" Perhaps he was being a little too anxious, but he wouldn't blame Alvarez if that name brought back the wrong kind of memories. "I'm sure Roque won't use it again if we ask him not to."

A beat passed, then Alvarez stopped completely, making Jensen do the same. He looked at Jensen, those beautiful brown eyes of his still a little guarded.

"No, I..." He shook his head. "It's fine."

Jensen wasn't so sure, but he didn't want to come off as belittling, either. He _did_ allow himself the luxury of reaching out to Alvarez, however, carefully lacing their fingers together. They usually refrained from things like that during missions, mostly out of consideration for the rest of the team, but they were barely within sight now. Jensen just needed the reassurance — Alvarez always seemed to have an easier time talking when they were touching.

"It's up to you," Jensen said, giving Alvarez's hand a supportive squeeze. No matter how hard he might try, Jensen was still fiercely protective as soon as Alvarez's past was brought up. He still remembered what it had been like when Alvarez first joined their team, his eyes dead and face blank, and never wanted to have to see that again.

Alvarez let out a slow breath. "I know." He looked at Jensen, smiling softly. "I don't mind. I..." He hesitated, but the smile just grew stronger. "I like it."

Jensen's eyebrows shot up. "Really? I thought it would be, well, you know... traumatic?"

Alvarez shrugged, as if to say, "Pretty much, yeah."

"Then why?" Of course Jensen would let Alvarez do whatever he wanted, but it sounded weird to him. "You don't have to for our sake."

"No." Alvarez shook his head. "For me." His gaze was firm and no doubt or hesitation showed in his expression. "It's my name. They gave it to me." He squeezed Jensen's hand, his smile both reassuring and a little sad. "I want to keep it."

 _That_ , on the other hand, Jensen could understand.

He had gotten to know Alvarez pretty well during the past year and he knew that there wasn't much of a family for him outside of the Army, meaning that his team had probably filled that function. That was no doubt the reason why Alvarez had taken their deaths so hard — they had been all he had. Wanting to honor what they had given him, be it a nickname, was understandable.

There was also some symbolism there, Jensen supposed, that Alvarez wanted to share that name with his new team.

His new family.

Jensen smiled, tugging Alvarez closer by the grip on his hand.

"Okay," he said, pressing a quick kiss to Alvarez's lips. The knowledge that Alvarez had finally found a place where he felt that he belonged — somewhere where he was safe enough to share such a private, vulnerable part of himself — made Jensen's chest ache with both relief and pride. "We'll get right on that," he promised.

If he started calling him Cougar instead, Jensen had no doubt that the rest of the team would follow his lead pretty quickly. They did so on all other occasions when it concerned Alvarez, knowing that no one understood him better than Jensen did — and no one was more invested in his well-being.

Just as Jensen was about to pull away, Alvarez curled a hand around the back of his neck and reeled him in for another kiss. This one was deeper — grateful and needy — and frankly left Jensen feeling pretty fucking breathless.

" _Gracias_." It was nothing more than a soft, heartfelt mumble against Jensen's lips, Alvarez's relief obvious. "For everything."

Jensen smiled. "You know I would do it all over again — ten times over." Jensen hadn't planned to continue, but the words just kept coming. "I'd do anything for you."

Alvarez closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

"I know." Alvarez leaned his forehead against Jensen's, clearly reveling in the closeness. His thumb gently traced Jensen's jawline. "And I you."

There wasn't much Jensen could do but grin dorkily, happiness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He loved this man more than he could possibly put into words and knowing that Alvarez had found another family — one that Jensen was a part of and had helped him find — made Jensen's heart soar.

This was everything he could ever have wanted for Alvarez — a home and a place to belong.

Jensen closed his eyes, still grinning, that warm hand still a grounding weight against his neck.

This was where they both belonged.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! I wanted to make sure to include something about Cougar's name as well, considering that Jensen has spent the entire fic calling him Alvarez. It was an important detail and made for a pretty nice epilogue, if I do say so myself.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you all enjoyed it! It was a while since I wrote a slightly longer Losers fic (I genuinely thought this one would be MUCH shorter) and I would be lying if I said I haven't missed it.
> 
> If you're interested, I'm currently open for The Losers art and fic trades! Check out [Trading Losers](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/169044434668/hey-losers-its-time) to find out more! 
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies! <3


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